Envying Monte Cristo
by Backroads
Summary: Kim has been presumed dead for six years. Now she has returned to Middleton with a strange alliance and the question of who had sold her out.
1. Prisoner

The computer consul gave a satisfied beep as the program refreshed itself with an account balance fifteen million dollars enlarged. The numbers certainly looked good, and Garrison Wiles smiled to himself. A new grandchild had arrived recently, needing a proper college fund. Yes, those were some fine looking numbers. He closed the program and redirected his smile to the woman. She did not smile back; of course, she didn't look the type to ever bother with an unnecessary smile, and there was no place in less need of unnecessary smiles than business. "The transaction is complete," he said.

"Good." She snapped the phone closed in a smooth motion of her green-gloved hand. "Don't spend it all in one place."

Don't spend it all in one place. That was a good one. Did she have any idea how the finances of the wealthy truly worked? Well, some of the money would be set aside for the grandkids' college funds, but it wasn't all that hard to use up money in a single place, if one was intelligent. Was that not the concept behind investing? "I won't," he promised, and gestured to the chair across the oak desk. "Please, you may take a seat, miss."

The glare he received in return would have been enough to shrivel anyone else. Evidently this woman had no intention of sitting in a chair. She stood near the door of the office, a striking contrast of color against the wood-and-burgundy theme he had selected. He took a moment to study her. A tall woman, about thirty years of age, give or take. And quite lovely. Not that he was lustfully looking– he had been married for over forty years to a still-attractive woman whom he deeply loved– but he could still appreciate human beauty for what it was worth. And she wasn't a girl, but a woman. He hated it when pretty woman tried to look like young girls. But this woman did not. Her green dress was age-appropriate and decently clung in all the right places. That, with the long black hair worn down, made her appear ready for a charity ball rather than a business venture. Oh, well.

He sighed and clasped his hands together. "I take it, then, that you would have me uphold my end of the bargain."

"Ya think?" she replied with a definite snip. "I've already turned twenty-five million to this deal, and I expect my fair trade."

"I just can't imagine anyone who is worth that much."

"I think of it as an investment. Just take me to her."

So sad when they forwent the pleasantries of a trade. These new generations just did not have the taste for class. But what could he do? Garrison rose to his feet and gestured to the door behind him. Oak, like the desk. Hand-carved by monks in Germany. "Right this way, then."

The woman hesitated a moment, then, with the scowl she had worn since arriving, followed him through the door.

He hadn't spent much time on the prison rooms, but he figured they looked well enough. It was harder than one might think to import so many materials to a deep ocean base. Yet there was an appeal. Classic, slightly minuscule. Like an old spy movie. At least there was carpet. The woman followed in a huff, not bothering to take in the decor– or lack thereof.

"I suppose I am curious as to your situation, miss," Garrison said. No matter what, no amount of money could erase all interest.

"Stay curious. Is she healthy?"

He nodded. "Healthy as could be expected. She's not the type to let herself rot. Not a whole lot of spirit left, I'm afraid. At least the exercise remained in habit. And she eats. Again out of habit, but at least it keeps the body up."

"That's not what you told me when I paid you that first ten million."

Garrison laughed. "You only asked if she were really alive. I take it you need her healthy?"

"Duh." She nodded. "It really isn't all that simple to scrape together that much money."

"Unimaginable." He again wondered what this was all about. Of course, that would mean asking himself why he had kept the girl imprisoned all this time. "Well, I do hope she proves her use to you."

"She had better."

Garrison wasn't sure those words were meant for his ears. Well, she had plunked down the money, so he might as well ignore all quirks.

"Out of curiosity," she continued softly. "How did you fake the death? There was a body. I was there. And so I was a little surprised to hear word you had her."

He gave another laugh. This would give him something to discuss over dinner tonight. "Oh, I didn't fake the death. Someone else did that. But I know all about it. Yes, there was a body. It's amazing what one can do with a cloning formula."

The woman actually joined him in laughing. "Now it's obvious. Someone can think. Now I assume this is the place?"

They had paused at the end of the corridor. In front of another door was lone desk, occupied by three guards playing a game of cards. Garrison didn't mind at all if they did that, but letting that information out was not worth the joy of watching them jump, ashen-faced, to attention.

"This dear lady has come to pick up the prisoner," Garrison said, gesturing to the woman. "You will all be getting bonuses, of course."

One of the guards nodded and pulled out an access card– one of the multiple keys of opening the cell. Voice recognition and a finger-prick blood sample were also required, among other things. But soon enough the door was open.

Garrison had always admired the cell. It was roomy and surprising comfortable. Of course, if one was locked in it for six years that opinion might be altered. "Is this the one you want, miss?"

He caught a glance of the woman's face as he spoke, and the expression surprised him.

The scowl was completely gone, wiped from a face that now seemed incapable of cruelty, the face of a veritable angel. Her eyes had even misted some. "Yes," she whispered. "That's her."

The object of interest was sitting in the glass corner, eyes shut, limp red hair spilling to the floor. She was no longer a child, but she still looked that way. Had this girl really been the teenage brat who had dared defy him?

"Have her handcuffed, please," the woman said. "I still don't trust her."

"She has an anklet that keeps her moves in check," he replied.

The guard approached the girl and gently shook her shoulder. Her eyes flew open. They looked like an animal's eyes, Garrison suddenly thought. The changes in prisoners would never cease to amaze him. She climbed slowly but steadily to her feet and let the guard lead her to cell door. According to all reports she had been eating well, but she still looked thin. Or perhaps weak was the better term. The faded jeans she wore barely hung on her hips. At least he had insisted they provide her with normal clothes– she would have drowned in any traditional jumpsuit.

He watched, smiling, as the guard and the girl rounded the cell and through the barrier to the surrounding area, and finally through the door. He did not speak until she was a few feet in front of him. He noticed that she did not bother to look up– rather amusing. "Well, Miss Possible, I hope you enjoyed your stay. Maybe you would like to return someday."

She did not reply. Even more amusing.

* * *

It was a freaking fifty-two minute journey from that damn office to the surface building, and she had still to speak a single word. Or give a sign of being something more than catatonic, at least. Shego's teeth were hurting; she hadn't realized she had kept them clenched the entire time. "Well, Kimmie, aren't you glad to be out in the fresh air?" 

Not so much as a shrug. Garrison Wiles had been right, handcuffs were superfluous.

"Come on, say something." She had her hand on Kim Possible shoulder, steering her through the parking lot. The limo was waiting, the driver already standing attention. Probably would want a tip. Maybe he had been standing out here the whole time. Weirdo. The sea air was nice, but a chill wind was picking up and the sky had turned a mottled grey. Well, enjoy what you could. She took a deep breath and smoothed back the hair strands that whipped at her face. "You have no idea what you cost me, Kimmie. I would have broken in–in fact, I tried. But this Wiles person is smart. Hell, he kept you locked up for six years."

Kim stared at the ocean's horizon, and Shego followed her gaze. The horizon was much darker, nearly black, and suddenly cracked with a shard of lightening. Yes, a storm was moving in, and Shego wanted to be well away by the time it hit land. They had another long trip ahead of them, and if Kim would just start talking...

The driver opened the door, and Kim obediently climbed inside. Good girl. Shego followed and took the seat opposite.

Weird. Definitely very weird. One of those really weird situations into which no one ever imagined getting themselves. Paying twenty-five million for the life of her enemy. Hell. And the way Kim looked... Shego didn't like it. She remembered Kim Possible, and she did not remember this thing before her.

But she would have to do.

Though sometimes Shego had to wonder if she were just being an idiot. There was probably a simpler, cheaper way to do this.

Maybe it was a pride thing. A respect thing.

"Anything to drink?" she asked.

Kim shrugged.

Wow. That was something. A physical movement from the walking zombie.

Shego opened the cooler. Her sense of drama wanted something a little more than Coke, but apparently that was all this thing had. She pulled a bottle out and handed it to Kim, who took it and stared at it a good two minutes before opening it and taking a sip. Immediately she sneezed and rubbed her nose.

"No carbonation in six years, huh?"

No response. Kim just took another, apparently less painful, swallow.

If only the girl would make eye contact! Shego took a Coke for herself. "Six years," she said. Small talk. Small talk might help. "Six years. Wow. I can't believe it has been that long. Who would have thought? I mean, everyone thought you were dead. But apparently the body they found all shot up Godfather-style was a clone. Who would have thought?" She hated repeating herself. How did one make good small talk? "It was just after your high school graduation. Three weeks, I think it was. I'll let you know that it was a lovely funeral. Everyone came. The city even donated a monument."

Kim took another sip.

Shego gave another sigh. Patience, she told herself. She had never had a problem with patience. Patience was all it would take. "You're free now, Kim. For all intents and purposes, you are free. You can do whatever you like now. Start getting your life back. I think you might like the current fashions."

Kim lifted her head. Her face looked half-dead, her eyes ghastly humongous.

"It's all over. Wiles no longer has any plans for you."

Then Kim took a breath and mumbled something.

This was it. Speech. Shego leaned forward, heart pounding. "Didn't catch that."

Kim took another breath and spoke again. "Why did you get me out?"

The obvious question. The important question. "I happen to need your help. After that, you will never hear from me again."

It still wasn't the old Kim, but at least she was speaking. "You want my help?"

Shego smiled. "Exactly. Surprising, isn't it?"


	2. Zombie Freedom

The apartment was not quite what Kim expected—at least she found herself in mild surprise as she followed Shego from the limo and through a medieval gate into an immaculate garden in front of an apartment building looking as demure and expensive as any snooty artist could wish. She didn't know. Maybe she had expected something more dungeon-esque in the Shego sense of the word. Or maybe it was the fact that the building was beyond a glass imitation of life and entering into a world that saw the sky. It was night, a light-polluted starless sky falling on a horror-movie garden of shadows. Still, nice to look at. Maybe nicer in the daylight.

She still held the second Coke bottle in her hand. It was mostly empty, and her head now buzzed from the caffeinated bubbles. She had never minded Coca-Cola, and it was a nicer companion of five hours than Shego. Shego, the whiney, rambling voice that failed to shut up before forty-five minutes.

Was she supposed to be grateful? Sure, she was grateful. Why wouldn't she be grateful, madly, crazily, unbelievably grateful? Maybe that feeling was so powerful it crushed itself into a cold stone.

The lobby was nice enough, as was the elevator. Shego had finally taken the message to not speak. She just stood in the elevator, humming softly to herself, as if this were all completely normal.

It was a trap, Kim decided. This had to be a trap because people like Shego did not rescue other people out of the goodness of their black hearts or because they needed a personal favor.

Maybe she should make a run for it. She could take Shego, she had many times before. It was musing, a mildly interesting thought. The fantasy was certainly entertaining. The elevator opened, and she followed Shego out. Apartment 37E. Shego stabbed her key into the lock and twisted.

The apartment was done in various shades of green. Elegant, Kim supposed. She stood in the living room, waiting and studying the apartment. A sofa, a chair, a coffee table. Random abstract art. A hell of a lot better than that cage of Garrison Wiles'.

Shego gestured down a hallway. "The guest room's at the very end on your right. Bathroom is attached, and there should be fresh towels and all that junk."

Big whoop. Garrison Wiles had also provided a bathroom and fresh towels. At least it was a change of some stature. Yes, she was grateful. " Thanks," she murmured. She felt gross from the car ride. A bath would be nice.

"I'm going to bed," Shego continued, pushing open another door. "Get some rest, get anything you want out of the fridge, and we'll talk more in the morning."

Kim wondered if she should say goodnight or something friendly like that. No, no bother. This was Shego with whom she was dealing. Shego who had freed her. Shego who had done nothing more interesting than blandly give her room and board.

So weird.

Shego in a fancy apartment all by herself. Huh. What else had changed?

The guest bedroom, thank heaven, was not green. A nice cream-and-blue theme. A little girly, but oh well. Kim stood before the bed, bare toes curling into the lush carpet. Garrison Wiles had not been a carpet person. She took a deep breath, then stripped down to nothing. The clothes Garrison Wiles had given were decent—no tacky jumpsuits—but still lacked a basic understanding of good fashion. She sighed, flexed her arms, and headed into the connected bathroom. Lovely. A forest stream theme. Enchanted forest. At least there was a Jacuzzi. Garrison Wiles had never allowed her that much. She twisted the knobs that sent steaming water into the tub in a thunderous echo.

The mirror was full-length, framed in wooden vines. While the tub filled Kim stared at her reflection. When was the last time she had bothered with a mirror? Garrison Wiles had purchased her make-up, in the beginning, but she had never bothered to wear it. To do so would have been creepy, a twisted Beauty and the Beast without the goodness of heart. Her hair was longer, much longer, and limp like something dead. Her face was thin, deathly pale. A lot of death about this reflection. Her body, on the other hand… slim, muscular, a little skinnier than she would have liked. But alive. She did not look like the person she remembered. Gosh, she was nearly twenty-four now. That was so... old. What had happened to the rest? She frowned at the girl in the mirror, then slipped into the tub.

It was nice, really nice. She closed her eyes. It was not the tub back in the cell. She had not liked that cell. Yeah, she had been given quite a bit of privacy, especially after the first year, once the guards had decided that she had learned she could not escape. That had been worse. A glass cell in a dungeon, as isolated as the moon. She sunk beneath the surface; she liked the way the water felt against her face.

It had been just another mission, another activity in the sparkles of post-graduating life. Another brilliant scientist, a geologist, had been kidnapped and was supposedly held in eastern Washington state.

"What is it with these scientists?" Ron had asked. "If they are as smart as everyone thinks they are, why don't they hire a decent bodyguard or something? I mean, if I ever made an important discovery…."

Except she had never made it to Washington. Her four-wheeler had stalled outside a small Idahoan town, and she had hopped off to see what was wrong. She had awoken in Garrison Wiles' office. She had dealt with him only a week before. Something involving… heck, she didn't even remember. But it couldn't have been as big a deal as six damn years.

She wasn't there anymore. She was free. Absolutely free.

It was a different idea. Very different.

Her heart began pounding.

Now what was she supposed to do?

There was that earlier idea of dramatic escape, but instead she let herself doze until the water chilled. She climbed drowsily from the water, wrapped herself in a towel, and returned to the guest room where she collapsed, already asleep, into the bed.

It was still dark when she awoke. Not surprising. Night and day were still utterly meaningless—indoor cells did that to a person. She had not bothered with covers, and the top quilt was slightly damp from the towel and her hair. She tossed the towel to the floor and sat up. She needed clothes, and not those awful things from the cell.

She was free. What an odd thought.

The closet had clothes, basic shirts and pants that were thankfully not green. Her size, more or less. New underwear, still with tags, were in the dresser. How thoughtful of Shego. She pulled some things on, an outfit that matched well enough, and slipped back into the hall. It was dark. No Shego around yet.

The fridge was all right—staples, plus some yogurt cups and a few containers of left-overs. She wound up heating a container of Mongolian stir-fry in the microwave.

Shego had said they had all thought she was dead. Her throat went empty, and a cramp burst her through her stomach that somehow made her want the stir-fry all the more. Six years. She hadn't thought of the whole death thing. Ron, her parents, none of them would have given up. Unless, unless they really thought she was dead.

Should she not feel more excitement than this? She felt like a zombie. Zombie. Almost worthy a laugh. Almost.

The microwave beeped, and she ripped out the container. It wasn't too hot that she couldn't scoop out a few noodles with her fingers.

Garrison Wiles had taken six years of her life.

She opened a few drawers before finding a pair of plastic chopsticks, which she stuck into the stir-fry before plopping herself down onto the couch and taking several feverish bites.

The coffee table wasn't bare. A few magazines—_National Geographic_, _Cosmopolitan, Modern Villainess. _A miniature photo album. Curiously Kim opened it. There were less than a dozen photos, all average prints crammed into the front. The subject of all of them was the same: a brown-haired, green-eyed boy, ages ranging from infancy to about four years.

Interesting for Shego. Shego hadn't… It wasn't any of Kim's business, and she honestly did not care.

The digital clock on the microwave read 5:49.

She placed the album down. Her heart was pounding again, more feverish than before. Who cared about Shego? She was free. She didn't have to stay here and wait for morning.

She wanted to see the look on Ron's face more than anything.

Kim could still pick a lock. The escape idea was becoming more and more interesting.

She had spent six years thinking about everyone. If they all thought she was dead, she had to get back to Middleton.

* * *

Someone had suggested the brilliant idea of 2-liter pop bottle book reports; Monique did not remember who, but sooner or later that snatch of information would return to her head and then that evil super-teacher would be dead. Those obnoxious janitor kids from the high school were already roaming the halls with noisy vacuums and giant rolling garbage cans. In another fifteen minutes they would be chasing each other around with bottles of acidic cleaner, and Monique had learned the hard way that it was best to be long gone by that point in time. But no! Not today! Today she was stuck in an already-cluttered classroom with twenty-seven hideous pop bottles detailing the adventures of Harry Potter and the occasional self-obsessed angsty teenage narrator. Monique had suffered through student-teaching with two clutter-brained cooperating teachers, and had sworn that she would never be that sort of person. Now she was trapped in a butcher-paper classroom covered in art projects, world maps, and cutesy posters that supposedly assisted in math skills. Oh, and she had a bookshelf filled with Harry Potter and novels narrated by self-obsessed angsty teens that had somehow appealed to the American Library Association. So not age appropriate. The things she went through to attract sixth graders. 

She shoved another pop bottle from her desk and hit what she hoped were the number keys on her keyboard. Good enough, good enough. She was tired and had forgotten to restock her energy drinks in the faculty fridge. After the history papers and the spelling tests from last week, she was still looking at another hour or so of grading.

Laughter was coming from the halls. They were going for the spray bottles early today.

That was it. No more creative book reports.

She yanked a sucker from her candy jar. All the educational experts who said it was wrong to use external rewards for student behavior were idiots. Besides, she needed the candy as much as anyone, the small amount of sugar it provided. Maybe she could bribe the janitor kids to stay away from her classroom.

A crash sounded from the direction of the fifth grade rooms. Why didn't Steve do something about them?

She picked up another bottle. Sarah Rudell's report on _Gone with the Wind_. That girl was freakishly smart. What sort of eleven-year old read _Gone with the Wind_? Teacher's pet aimer. Eh, why not? The girl wasn't bratty about it. Full points.

Her cell phone went off, some wrestler's theme; she didn't actually remember who, just that the song was cool. And it was coming from under the geometry art projects. Maybe. She shoved a few papers to the floor in time to grab the phone. "Yo."

"Are you still at school?"

She stared around the disaster area and sighed. "How did you guess?"

"Psychic Ron-powers. I passed that test!"

"Which test?" She grabbed another bottle. "Y'know what, Ron, I don't care. I have learned an important lesson about the negatives of letting a preteen express his creative side."

"Then you definitely don't want to hear about the test." Ron didn't sound offended, just too proud to care what she thought. As long as he thought it was humorous.

"Master's programs are psychotic, boy. You should know that by now." Janitors raced by with vacuums. "Y'know, you don't need to bother coming from Upperton tonight—"

"It's all good, all good. I have a lot of studying to do. How about I see you this weekend?"

She smiled like a little girl. "That'll give me something to look forward to."

The vacuum was off, and now three of those creatures were gathered in her doorway. Smirking. Oh, how she hated the smirks!

"Are you talking to your fiancé, Miss Baxter?" one of them cooed. Monique thought his name was Chad, or something like that.

A girl giggled. "Can I see your ring again?"

Oh, good grief. "Ron, those janitor kids are back." She held up her left hand so they could all go gaga over the ring. Her students, at least the boys, had stopped carrying on after two days. Teenagers. Had she been this bad?

"Dude, Monique, they rock! Nothing more respectable than janitorial labor. I mean, for other people, because janitors do a lot of stuff that is just wrong. But these kids rock."

"No, they don't. They won't even take out my trash." She pointed at her trash can and glared at the kids, who giggled again before going to work. "Look, I have stuff to correct, so I'll call you tonight. Kisses."

More laughter. Ah, well.

"All right. Till then! Love ya." Ron hung up.

Plenty of book reports and some poetry attempts left. Monique sighed, then held out her hand and smiled. Ron couldn't afford a huge rock, but that girl was right. It was a pretty ring.

* * *

The bus drove away, leaving Kim and three other people to wander from a stop she really didn't remember. She recognized the street name, but apparently the city had decided to tear up and rebuild that section. It was almost infuriating. Like they needed her permission to do that. 

_Get a grip,_ she told herself. _You're nervous._ _Everything is a little off. It's all right._

She probably should eat something, but she wasn't sure if she could keep it down. Her fellow bus riders vanished to unknown destinations, but Kim walked a few feet up the sidewalk and stopped. It was late afternoon, the time when the families of Middleton would be arriving home, settling down, doing whatever.

Oh, she was going to faint.

What was everyone going to think? What was everyone going to do? She had never been dead before. Were there certain protocols for this?

She should have stayed at Shego's place. Shego had got her out of that cell, Shego could have arranged everything else.

Yeah, right.

Kim had other priorities. Her family. Ron. Her friends. Middleton.

A few cars drove by, drivers not even glancing at her. No one recognized Kim Possible, back from the dead.

She darted back to the bench and sat down, head between her knees. Her heart was pounding so hard it was going to break through her ribs.

She shouldn't have left the cell at all. She should have insisted the guards keep her in there. Then she would not have to deal with all of this.

Was anyone still in Middleton? She had thought about calling, but that had made even less sense than this.

She needed her mom. Oh, hell, what was her mom going to think?

It would be good, wouldn't it? Kim had nearly died from missing everyone so much. They missed her, too, didn't they? She would see them, they would see her, tears and hugs and kisses and panic and joy and pain…

Ugh. She would have been sick if her body hadn't desperately absorbed that stir-fry.

This street was so open. The open wasn't good anymore. Open was bad. But it was supposed to be good.

She leaned back against the bench and began to cry.

"Miss, are you all right?"

Whoa. Stranger. Person. She almost screamed.

It was a cop, one she did not recognize. A middle-aged guy, a little on the short and pudgy side.

"No, I'm not all right," she muttered.

"What seems to be the problem?"

She didn't want to talk to him. She didn't want to talk to anybody. She could see his car parked on the side of the road, his partner in the driver's seat. Oh, great. Back up. "Go away," she muttered.

"I don't recall your face around Middleton."

Well, he should. She had helped the police plenty of times. She sent him a scowl, but did not reply.

"Miss, I am going to have to ask you for some identification."

What for? Could he not just leave her alone? "And I am going to have to let you know that I don't have any."

"Look, we just want to help you and keep this town safe. So just let me—"

It was a lightning reflex she hadn't expected herself. Her arm reached for his wrist, squeezed it, and wrenched the entire arm down.

The cop's reaction was slow, but not too slow. He ripped his arm free. "Now that is not okay!" His hand shot out and pinned Kim's arms behind her back.

Stupid cop training. "Let me go!" she shrieked. She tried to aim a kick for the groin, but apparently short-'n-pudgy was too clever for that. She jerked her torso around and managed to free one arm. But the cop still had her.

His partner jumped from the car.

She gave another useless twist, then slumped to the ground as a blue wave hit her. Oh, who cared? She went limp, and fresh tears flooded out. The cop slipped the handcuffs on her. He certainly had power issues.

"What's with this one, Hale?"

Kim sniffed. The new voice was rather familiar, though she didn't have the energy to look up. If her brain wasn't such a fog…

"Eh, probably just the usual alcohol or drugs."

So not the problem.

"She put up quite the fight," said the new cop. "Totally awesome. You really have to give…" Semi-familiar voice trailed off.

She could feel him staring at her. It was almost a good feeling. Like he was going to next say—

"Kim Possible?" came the whisper.


	3. Return to Middleton

Kim thought that, after hearing someone actually recognize her as herself, her reaction should be something along the lines of screaming and crying and all those silly dramatics. The truth was that a dose of detection really was not all that. Not that it wasn't so bad. It was nice, wonderful, in fact. And really about time, after six years. 

She smiled rather weakly and looked up into the face of the semi-familiar officer of the law. Short-n-pudgy was still holding her arm, and she was beginning to feel like a toddler after a tantrum. She didn't recognize that moron, but this other guy staring at her in amazement… it took her a few moments and a blink to recall the memories. A familiar face. Finally, a familiar face. Then she pulled her arm free—apparently Short-n-pudgy had given up on her—and threw her arms around the cop's neck.

"Brick!" Strange how relieved she sounded. Desperate, even. A sob burst from her throat, and the cop's shoulder was suddenly rather wet. "Omigosh. Brick Flagg! I can't believe it's you!"

"Kim Possible?" he repeated. His voice was dazed, but Kim didn't care. Someone was saying her name, and it wasn't Shego or one of those moronic guards. His hand patted her awkwardly on the back.

She cried all the harder and hugged Brick even more than that. So maybe he wasn't the first Middleton citizen with whom she had wanted a reunion, but darn it, at least he was someone she knew and that had to count for something. And he remembered her! He remembered her! How good it felt to be remembered!

"Kim Possible?" The other cob, the one who had tried to arrest her. The voice was disbelief, and she fought a sudden urge to laugh. "Kimberly Ann Possible? That little girl who was killed all those years back? That's impossible."

The pun was too obvious. "One and the same!" she shouted—mostly into Brick's shoulder, so it did come off as rather muffled.

"I cannot believe this." Brick. "Kim Possible? Hale's right, you're dead!"

Good grief, did she look dead? Was Brick now blind? No, he had been the only one to recognize her! She sniffed, choked back the next sob, and pushed herself away from Brick. Yes, it was Brick Flagg, all right. The hero of the Middleton Mad Dogs. Same face, more or less, after the addition of six years. His hair was shorter. If anything else, the guy had grown another inch or so. And more muscle, it seemed. Still a muscle-head. At least he hadn't gone the infamous post-football physical south. "Brick, I'm not dead. I never was dead." Duh. Had she said that?

He continued to stare at her, slack-jawed, eyes focused in horrified fascination. "How? You… I mean, the funeral was closed-casket, but still!"

She stared back, hands still pressing into his forearms, silently willing him to keep believing, keep him from thinking something stupid.

"You're not a clone, are you?"

She felt sick all over again, but at least the energy stayed this time. "Brick, no, I'm not a clone! It's me! Kim! We went to high school together! Everyone spread rumors I had a crush on you! Would a clone know that?"

"A clone can be taught."

"That's right," Hale said. He did not sound convinced of anything. "Brick, whoever this young lady is, we really gotta take her down to the station."

Brick sighed deeply and ran his hand over his face. This was clearly all too much for him to handle. Too bad. "This is insane. The force has enough on its hands… this cannot be happening."

She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to keep calm. "Brick, please! Your first impression was right, please stay with it!"

"Kim Possible." He shook his head and took a deep breath. "You do look like Kim Possible. A lot like Kim Possible."

"That's because I am!" Her voice was beginning to hurt, and it suddenly struck her how crazy she must look.

"You were shot. Fifty-eight times, to be exact."

Either Brick Flagg was making crap up or he had gotten a lot smarter in college. Counting. Almost a laugh. Boy, she needed help. "That was the clone. Look, I don't know everything. But that was not me they buried. I swear."

"Kim Possible was a town hero," Officer Hale said in the irritating voice of the small-town loser cop. "I can't believe anyone would stoop to making this up. It's a sin."

"Shut up, Hale," Brick snapped. Another sigh. "Look, we'll take her down to the station. Do a DNA test. Settle this." Then he swore under his breath before continuing. "Kim?"

Finally. She nodded.

"Kim," he repeated with remaining disbelief. "We're going to take you down to the station. You're not under arrest. We'll just get a blood sample and run it through the machine."

"You don't know my DNA," she muttered.

"We have yours—Kim Possible's—stuff, tons of it. Those brothers of yours insisted we keep it on record. They're such conspiracy theorists."

Tim and Jim. She wanted to cry all over again. Oh, but how they ruled!

And Brick had said "those brothers of yours".

All the energy slid from her as Brick led her to the car.

* * *

Kim Possible still thought of herself as princess of the world, didn't she? Running off like that at the butt-crack of dawn—what normal person did something like that? Oh, no! Kim Possible had to prove herself to be the best! Shego squeezed the steering wheel tighter. Freeway was empty, and the machine could really get up on the speed. That girl could still irk her. That was never going to go away, apparently. 

She caught a glimpse of herself in the rearview mirror. Damn it all, she was smiling. Well, why not? If Kim Possible still had the audacity to escape, then this horribly risky and probably stupid move had become a little less horribly risky and stupid. This good. This was very good.

Hire someone else, that annoyingly pragmatic voice in her head had kept saying. If you're going to steal that much money, hire anyone else! Hire all the people you want! Don't get the obnoxious girl who has been dead to the world for years! There are plenty who are just as good.

And yet it was so hard to respect someone you didn't know. Besides, if Garrison Wiles could even suspect the kind of backlash he was going to get for releasing Possible, he probably would have doubled her price. Tripled, maybe. Fortunate that people like Wiles always had a price of some sort. Made things that much easier. And one could always get money. What was the adage? Beg, borrow, or steal.

Little Kimmie had all the good connections, anyway.

She told that little voice to knock it off. Kim was the one she needed. No one else had Kim's potential, was in Kim's perfect position.

And her literal position was no doubt Middleton. Not that far. Shego had tossed out all of Wiles' little gadgets, but it wasn't too hard to predict the reactions of an inmate. Kim Possible was in Middleton. Call it feminine intuition. Honestly, the girl could stand to be a little more creative in that department.

Thinking of Middleton… hadn't they been the town with that nasty murder the week back? Too bad, they didn't need Kim's help.

Shego did. As much as she hated to admit it, she had thought long and hard, and she needed Kim's help.

She glanced down at her keychain, the little mini photo frame dangling down. A four year-old boy with bright green eyes.

"Just hang in there, Brexton," she whispered. "It's gonna be okay, baby."

* * *

The chairs in the police station were surprisingly comfortable. Maybe Kim should have rebelled once or twice in high school, been the bad guy for once. At least she would have been able to sit in those nice chairs. With random people staring at her. That was really nice. It wasn't exactly all of Middleton, but so far the receptionist, two other cops, and a guy caught stealing a car had paused long enough to stare at her. She didn't have the ability at the moment to stare back, but she could still hear their whispers. Some of them. Maybe they thought she was familiar, maybe they were just trying to figure out what she was in for. But at least they were watching. 

Brick and that Hale guy were in the other room, this big ugly glass thing. They were talking—she couldn't hear, but as she didn't care that was all right.

She still wanted to know when it had become standard for most police stations to have instant DNA identification systems. What else had she missed?

She was so tired, but her heart was pounding. And she was angry. Since when did she have to give a blood sample to prove her identity? She pulled the blanket Brick had given her tighter and took another sip of the chocolate. That was the usual treatment for trauma victims, but Brick apparently was under the impression everyone brought in needed that. Well, he hadn't said that, but she didn't see any other reason for it. But the chocolate was good. She couldn't complain about chocolate.

Though she would have preferred a phone call to her parents or Ron infinitely more.

What were they doing right now? Distressing themselves over her? The tweebs apparently doubted her death on some level, thank goodness. She couldn't call them the tweebs anymore. Jim and Tim. James and Timothy. Her brothers. Her wonderful, wonderful brothers. Surely Ron wouldn't have been any different.

She had to see Ron. She had to see him now. She had to see Ron and her family and Monique and… she put her hand to her head. _I am so not prepared for this. _

What exactly was she supposed to do? Saunter into her house? Just randomly call them up? Hey folks, I'm alive.

She was going to need a plan.

The door opened, and Brick stepped out. He was doing his best not to look at her as he ran his fingers through his blonde hair.

Kim set her cup of chocolate down on the seat next to her. "Well?"

His gaze dropped immediately to the floor. "We still can't rule out the evil clone possibility. DNA is only DNA."

Oh, he was so going to get it!

But then he forced the most pathetic of smiles, and she realized he was attempting a joke. "Kim, this is unbelievable. This is like a miracle."

"So you believe me?"

He shrugged. "I guess I have to. But, I mean… Kim, what the hell happened?"

That was the same question she had been asking herself. She quickly took another sip of chocolate. It almost spilled. "I don't really know. There was this man, Garrison Wiles. Rich scum kind of guy. I don't know much about him. Mob connections, money laundering, stuff like that, maybe. I put him in jail once upon a time, but I guess he skipped on bail and… well, he locked me up, apparently managed to clone me—and I swear I'm the real thing—and I guess that's the body everyone found." It was horrible to hear the words straight from her own mouth.

"But you're out. You're here. Did you escape? Well, of course you escaped, you're Kim Possible."

She choked on a laugh. "I wish. Listen, Brick… I just want to see my family and friends. Please."

Brick bit his lip. "Uh, you do realize they think you're dead."

"Like that hasn't crossed my mind. That's precisely why I need to see them."

"Hmm. And how exactly do you plan on revealing yourself?"

She moaned and let her head fall into her hands. "I don't know. But I guess there is no easy way of doing it."

"Damn right. I practically had a heart attack when I saw you." He moved the mug and sat down next to her. "Listen… how about I call your parents and tell them I need them to come down to the station. I won't tell them about you, but…"

Sounded as good as any other plan. She nodded.

Brick stood up and walked to the desk. Kim didn't watch, but she could hear the click of his fingers against the phone keys. A pause for a few rings and…

"Hey! Mrs. Dr. Possible? It's Officer Brick Flagg down at the station…. Yeah, the football player, that's me…"

Her mom. Brick was talking to her mom at this very moment. Her mother was on the other end of that phone.

"Yeah, well, I'm actually calling to see if you could do us a favor… we have some more photos with a heck more of clarity, and we would appreciate it if you would have a look at them…. Oh, yeah. Totally. I mean, if you're doing errands, bring him along. I was actually going to ask you to bring him as well. Why? Well, I really can't say over the phone… all right, thank-you, Mrs. Possible. I'll see you in a few."

The phone call was over.

Kim watched Brick as he made his way back to the chairs. She expected him to look pleased with himself, but he still looked as stunned as ever.

"I talked to your mom," he said slowly. "She and your dad are on their way."

She realized suddenly that she had been holding her breath. She gasped, and her chest erupted in pain. "Brick, thank-you so much. I just… what am I supposed to say?"

"Well, I like to think they'll be happy to see you alive."

She smiled. That was true. This was going to be a very happy moment. "So you just made up a story about some photos?"

Brick shook his head. "Nah, I'm not creative enough to do that. We really do have photos. There was this murder about a week ago… they didn't put me on it, I'm too new."

A murder. That was supposed to be horrible, wasn't it? And yet she wasn't feeling a thing in that regard. "Brick… do you think you could call Ron Stoppable?"

A slow smile spread over his face. It was nice to see someone smiling. "Well, he's in Upperton right now, I think. I almost forgot about you two. The junior prom and all that. Well, it was your junior prom and I just took Bonnie Rockweller… dude, I can't believe I'm going all back to discussing high school! Anyway, maybe you and your folks should decide how to contact Ron."

"I want to see Ron." He was probably right, though.

"And I'm sure you will. I mean, I don't even know where your brothers are right now. Some dig, I think."

"Thanks for getting my parents." All she could feel was an anticipation that would have thrown her from her chair if she were not so fatigued. She had to say something else. She couldn't just sit here. If she talked, it would be almost normal. And if she thought about her parents showing up, she would scream. "So… you're doing the cop thing now." Hooray for small talk.

He nodded, apparently thinking the same thing. "Yeah. It's pretty good. Really didn't know what else to do. I spent like three more years at the high school than I was supposed to, but LCC still gave me the football scholarship. I took a few crime prevention classes."

Interesting. When were her parents going to come? "Criminal justice major?"

"Not really. Minor. I actually got my bachelor's degree in recreation. Still don't know how I pulled that off. Then I sort of wound up at the police academy. But it's fun. I like it." He paused, staring into the glass room. Hale was furiously scribbling over some paperwork. "Sorry. I talk too much."

"It's okay." She needed someone to talk. If no one talked, she would scream. "So… there was a murder?" She knew she should be at least intrigued by that, but she just wasn't.

"Yeah." He scratched the back of his neck. "Pretty gruesome and all that. She was in your year. A cheerleader. I think she became a nurse at the hospital. Tara Archer. They just found her in her living room." He gave a dry laugh. "And they say nothing interesting happens in Middleton."


	4. Back

Tara Archer. Kim groaned and put a hand to her head. "She was murdered? Tara?" She still did not feel much emotion, but there was a stinging emptiness reminding her that she should be feeling something. "Cute little Tara?"

Brick nodded. "Yeah, that would be her. She was always a sweetheart, wasn't she?"

"Yeah, she was." She had always liked Tara. Not the brightest crayon in the box, but no one could say that Tara was anything less than an angel. At least to Kim's knowledge. And the girl had gone on to become a nurse, of all things. A nurse. What sort of sick bastard killed nurses? "Brick, what happened?"

"I don't know if I should say anything. You're kinda looking green."

That was probably true, but who cared? "Brick, just tell me."

He sighed for the unwilling effect, but she thought she saw a grin hiding somewhere in that face. Boys. They always liked the gross stuff. Blood and gore and they were happy. "Her skull had been bashed in. By a toaster, of all things. Oh, and she had been decapitated."

Kim's empty stomach lurched, and she leaned forward, gasping. "You're kidding!"

"I'm dead serious."

Well, he had been smiling but… no, he was serious. She could see the entire image in her head. Tara in a generic living room, still wearing her Middleton uniform. With her head cut off. Blood soaked the Persian rug that Tara probably did not own.

"Kim?" Brick's voice sounded distant. "Whoa. Are you okay? Can I get you some water?"

She shook her head. Ironic that she had to walk back into Middleton in the middle of this.

"Look, I just don't want you being sick all over the station. You really don't look so hot right now."

She sucked in fresh air and sat up. Red swam over her eyes. "I think I'll be okay. I guess I should have believed you about the… yuckiness."

"I think that would have been good. But I guess that if you were friends with her that you should know. No one really called you… you being dead and all…" He sighed. "Are you sure you're not a clone? Because if I'm not locking up an evil clone I don't think I could live with myself."

Could he not shut up about the clone thing? "Maybe I could use some water."

"Okay." He stood up.

At the same time the door opened, a little bell ringing as it did. How cheesy. A greeting from the receptionist lady. "Hi, we're the Possibles. Officer Flagg asked us to come down."

Darn it, she couldn't look over there! She tried and she couldn't. She grabbed for Brick's leg—he hadn't managed to leave for water.

"Mr. and Mrs. Possible." His voice wavered.

Kim felt a sob rising in her throat. She swallowed it and looked up just as her parents walked around the receptionist's desk.

It was like a movie scene where the sound people had decided not to edit anything in.

She jumped to her feet, blanket still around her shoulders.

And then they stared at each other.

They looked the same, more or less. No, they looked exactly the same except for a few differences that didn't matter. Her mom's hairstyle was different. Was it the latest fashion? Her dad had a little more gray, some wrinkles… She had forgotten what good-looking parents she had. If only they didn't look so confused.

Finally, Brick broke the silence. "I don't think she's an evil clone."

Apparently his word was plenty. Her mother gave a sputtering sob and raced forward, catching Kim and muttering something Kim didn't quite understand.

"This isn't a joke, is it?" Her father. "Officer Flagg, this isn't a joke." It was not a question, it was a demand.

"You'll have to ask Kim about the details," Brick replied. "I'm still lost."

Kim barely heard that conversation, though it rang enough in her ears. She hugged her mom back, not sure if she was crying or not. She felt like she was on fire.

Then there was another body in the hug, her father, kissing her forehead over and over again like she were a little girl again. "Kimmie cub, oh my gosh, is it you?"

She nodded. "Yes, Daddy."

"But you were dead, Kimmie. You were murdered!"

He couldn't go to the clone theory! "Dad, that wasn't me! That was not me! I was captured and…"

"What did I give you for your fourth birthday?" His voice was a mix of fury and tears.

What the…? Couldn't he just accept it? "Dad, I have no idea what you gave me."

"James, it's her," her mother said. "I know it is. Kim, when where the twins born?"

Ugh, not her, too. Yet somehow she didn't mind. At least they were smart enough to worry about this. "August 13, 1995."

"What's your favorite CuddleBuddy?"

She smiled. "Panda-Roo."

"What did you call your brothers?" her father demanded.

The questions went on and on in a flurry of words and emotions, just like the hug. It was like they were just trying to confirm what they already knew.

It was wonderful.

* * *

The stupid phone was ringing again. And it was buried somewhere under a mountain of homework and blueprints. What moron had decided that all new technology had to be pathetically tiny? Cell phones were getting smaller and smaller by the minute. And Ron really now wished he had not selected the theme song from _The Fearless Ferret_ as his ring tone. Monique was right; it was an obnoxious song. 

Rufus poked his head from behind the laptop. Looked like he had just awoken from a nap. The phone had woken up the poor little guy.

"Rufus," Ron said. "Can you find it? I left it on that desk, I thought."

The music continued. Whoever it was didn't plan on leaving a message. Ron pushed aside the random box of parts he had bought earlier. Still no phone. Man, but this dorm room was getting crowded! He had figured it was best to go cheap and put all the extra money toward the wedding and the house, but it was getting ridiculous.

He went over the desk again, spilling papers and last semester's weird little gadget onto the floor. There was that book. The one he had lost two semesters ago. Good grief. The basic introduction to Upperton University's mechanical engineering master's program. He could have sold that to a newbie for bank!

Well, too late. He shoved the book away into a pile of Bueno Nacho garbage. "Why don't they just leave a message and hang up?"

Rufus emerged from a pile of blue prints, happily displaying the cell phone. Still playing that awful song. He was going to have to give up _The Fearless Ferret_.

"Thanks, Rufus!" Ron called. He tried to leap over the new mess floor, but his foot caught in the end. Ouch. It had better not be a wrong number.

Rufus dropped the phone into his hand. Good enough. He hit the 'talk' button. "Hello?"

"Ronald! Took you long enough to answer."

Ron grinned sheepishly. "Sorry, Mr, Possible. Too small of a dorm, too much stuff."

Mr. Possible gave a chuckle that sounded oddly forced. "Yeah, I know that feeling. You're talking to the original scientist here… listen, Ronald, there's a reason I'm calling."

"Really?" Ron sat up in the only spot of carpet left on the floor. The Possibles rarely just called with a reason. They just… called, because that's what people who cared about each other did. But a reason… should he be worried?

Mr. Possible didn't say anything for a long time.

"Mr. P?"

Finally, he sighed. "Ronald, there's no easy way to say this, so I'm just going to say it. Kim's alive. She's right here."

The phone dropped right back into the mess.


	5. Clarity

Kim's family had redecorated. She wasn't sure if it were the new fashion or not, but the bright tones were pretty. Then again, anything was pretty after that awful cell. She sat on the couch, mother and father on either side of her, still wrapped in their kisses and hugs.

She really hadn't been close to anyone during the past six years. It was all right. It was very much all right.

"I can't believe this," her mother kept saying. "I can't believe this at all!"

"It's a miracle," her father said. "That's what it is. I don't know what the chances of it happening are, but it happened and…" He planted another kiss on Kim's forehead.

She felt like she were a baby all over again, instead of twenty-four. "Dad, I never stopped thinking about you. I just wanted to get out. I was so scared." She had attempted to explain the story, but somehow the events had failed to come forth completely. It was okay. Right now, they were minor details.

"How could this have happened?" her mother demanded. On occasion one of them had rushed to the phone to call someone. Ron. Her brothers. Relatives. Who knew? Kim hadn't been out of her parents' touch since the police station. Who knew who was on the phone?

But there were people on the other end of that phone! People! It was almost more than she could take. Her brothers, the little guys, would be flying in from Alaska. Ron would be coming down from Upperton. Her stomach did flip-flops.

She only wondered a little when Shego would show. She was a little surprised the woman had not appeared yet.

"I barely understand it," her mother said. "Kimmie, you were dead. We buried you. Or… or the clone."

Her father laughed nervously. "Clones. I can't believe I couldn't recognize my own daughter over a clone." The laugh turned into a fountain of tears.

"But you missed me?" It was rather hard to make conversation. It was easier to just weep and hug.

"Of course we missed you, Kimmie-cub!" he said while wiping his eyes. "We missed you every moment! But you were dead, and… Kimmie, don't you know what this is like? Can you even comprehend just how wonderful it is? You think your precious baby girl is dead. You sort of get used to the idea."

"And then you find out that all your tears and pain were okay because she's not really dead!" Her mom ran her hand over Kim's face. "I'm just hoping I'm not dreaming."

"Same here," Kim said with a smile. She did understand. "It was like I was dead. And now I'm afraid I'll wake up. But I'm not a dream, Mom. I promise."

"I know, sweetheart, I know—"

The door flew open.

Something inside of Kim twitched.

"Where is she?" The voice was fantastically familiar and screaming at no one in particular. "Where is she? I wanna see her!"

"I want to see her, too!" Another voice, also fantastically familiar. "I can't believe this is happening! I've been dreaming about this for years."

"They're here," her mother murmured happily.

Kim didn't have to ask who. She would not have had time to. She didn't even have the time to look. In a flicker of light speed she was yanked to her feet into a rib-crushing embrace. She breathed in fabric smelling like cheap detergent and another wonderful and familiar scent. She hugged back, scarcely aware of what was going on but loving every moment.

And of course she had to start bawling again.

"I can't believe this," the other voice said again. Monique, Kim realized happily. Monique was here! "This is the greatest thing that has ever happened."

Kim and Ron finally eased the embrace. "Kim, I can't believe it's you! I can't believe this is really happening!"

She looked up at him, tears still streaming down her cheeks. "Ron." It was all she could say. It was difficult to speak while crying. She wanted to say that she could hardly believe it was any of them. But it was Ron. An older Ron, but Ron. He had grown. He was now a full head taller than she, and he had definitely filled. No more gawky teenage boy, she thought. He was an adult. What a weird thought. Then again, so was she. His hair was still the same, his eyes as well. To think the last time she had seen him had been four-wheeling through northern Idaho.

But it was Ron.

He was crying, too. "Where have you been, KP?"

KP. Still the old nickname. She tried to laugh. "I don't think you'll believe me."

"I'm believing this, I'll believe anything. Damn it, it's just so good to see you." Before she had a chance to breath, they were hugging again.

"All right, break it up, I need to see her, too!" She had hardly left Ron's arms before Monique was all over her. "You're back! You're alive! This is the greatest day of my life!"

"I missed you so much!" Kim could finally speak. She would have preferred a little more eloquence, but that was something she had been lacking for awhile now. Oh, wow, but did she have some catching up to do, and she was so looking forward to it.

"And you look so great for having been dead!" Same old Monique. "Look at you! You're gorgeous!" She stepped back, hands still on Kim's shoulders. "Kim, I always wondered what you would look like…"

No, she knew well enough she was skin and bones and bad hair. Monique was the beautiful one. She looked the same, only somehow more glamorous. It wasn't make-up, she barely had any on. She looked great. Ron looked great. Everyone great.

"We have so much to talk about," Monique said. At least she could talk while crying. "I need to know everything. This is too wonderful!" She gave a small scream. "I'm just so happy you're alive, girl!"

Then Ron was hugging her again, tight against his chest.. "I'm so happy, too!"

It went on like that for the next ten minutes, one huge, incredible blur before anything else could even be said.

She didn't know it was possible to cram five adults on a couch, but they managed. Kim sat in the middle, Rufus on her lap as if he would never leave, Ron and Monique on either side of her, her parents on either further end.

"What happened?" Ron asked. He had her hand clasped between both of his. He smiled with the question, as if embarrassed to be asking something so vital. "Kim, we all thought you were dead. I mean, I was there! I know what I saw! I can't… This is so mind-boggling!"

One question for such an obvious answer. She shrugged. "I was just captured. That's all. I was being held by Garrison Wiles. I don't know if you remember him…"

Ron frowned, thinking. "Uh… I don't think I do remember him… wait. Rich, old guy? Like Senor Senior only not quite as exciting? We caught him for money laundering, nothing big. Why would he do this?"

She shrugged again. "I spent so much time trying to figure out why. Apparently he thought it was big."

"But you were shot." Monique spoke, softer than her voice had ever before been. "Ron saw you get shot."

Kim had not known that. She gawked up at Ron. "You saw it?"

He nodded. "It was so horrible. It was like I was shot, too."

Monique forced a laugh. "You were shot as well, remember?"

"Oh, yeah."

"But I don't want to think about it anymore. I'm sorry I brought it up. This is supposed to be a happy time!" Monique practically leapt up in delight. "I wish we had something to celebrate with. But, wait. If you weren't shot dead, who was?"

And the clone story reared itself again.

It made Ron laugh, a little. "I can't believe I couldn't tell the difference between you and a clone. But I guess that was the idea."

The idea of the dead clone was becoming more terrifying by the second. What if it had been her? "Ron, I'm sorry you had to see it."

He nodded quickly, laugh gone. "Me, too."

"But that's all over with," her mother said. "Like Monique said, this is a happy time."

Kim wanted to fall to her knees and scream gratitude. Suddenly the idea of another word about all this crap was a death blow. "Just tell me what's been going on." Her family had told her a little. Her mother had administered brain surgery to a Norwegian diplomat. Jim and Tim were in college, where they were taking science classes with yet no aim of any specific degree. Her father had designed a new rocket. She liked to know these things. She just wanted to grasp back onto this world.

Monique and Ron stared at each other in near-horror for a moment. They probably could not fathom why anyone would want to hear about the mundane.

"I'm teaching 6th grade at Middleton Elementary," Monique finally said.

Monique? A teacher? Then again, Monique had never said what she had wanted to be, back in high school. Kim smiled. "Really? You're a teacher?"

"Yeah, and I'm actually surviving my first year."

"I can't believe you became a teacher!" The same passion in which they had declared her status as living.

She shrugged and laughed. "Sometimes, neither can I. It just sort of happened in college. But I really do enjoy it. The kids are such pains! But then they do something half-way intelligent, and I get so excited I can't believe it. But 6th graders. Oy. Now that is when the hormones sink in, let me tell you."

Kim sank back into the couch. "I can't believe you have a career."

"Hey, I'm the first one."

"What about you, Ron?" Kim asked. It felt so weird asking such things. She felt like she was supposed to know these things and that she was a horrible person not knowing such things.

"I cook at the Middleton Grill," he replied rather shyly. "Part-time."

"You're a cook?" Ron had always been talented that way. At least he wasn't still at Smarty-Mart. "That's awesome!"

"Yes, Ronald, but tell her what else you're doing." Her father sounded proud.

Ron just looked confused. "I'm going to school. Upperton University. That plan never changed."

It seemed painfully obvious. "Oh."

"He's working on his master's degree in mechanical engineering," Monique put in. "He's really good, actually."

Ron with a master's degree. It was almost like a joke, only wonderful. "Really?" Kim wanted to hug him all over again.

"It's hard!" Ron protested. "I have no life aside from it!"

"It's supposed to be hard," her father said. "That's what makes getting the degree so great!"

"That doesn't mean I have to like it."

"Try spending hours each day with crazy children."

For the first time, it felt like she had never been gone. Funny how pointless arguing would cause that.

* * *

It was nearly 3 AM when Monique and Ron left the Possible home. It was a clear night, surprisingly warm, and the entire sky was lit like a planetarium ceiling. Monique wanted to throw herself into it all. Boy, but was she going to need caffeine in the morning! This excitement would keep her going strong for maybe another half-hour before the unavoidable crash would set in. Heck, maybe she would just call in a substitute tomorrow.

"Please tell me I did not dream this!" she demanded to Ron as she twirled herself around in a pathetically musical manner—she couldn't resist. Sometimes one just had to do what one felt.

"You didn't dream this," he replied with a huge grin.

"Please tell me I didn't hallucinate it, then!"

"You're completely drug-free, babe!"

"Is it a conspiracy, then? Am I on television? Because if I am on tv and no one bothered to tell this girl I am so gonna… Ron, I gotta go back in there! What if she wasn't real?"

Ron caught her mid-whirl and hugged her tight. "She was real! I'm the other witness! Rufus can be the third! Everything is perfect!"

She happily listened to his heart beat. This day could so not get any better. Then she stepped back from him, hands still clasped to his. "But I want to go back anyway! To see her!"

"Monique, she fell asleep on the couch twenty minutes ago."

But Monique had wanted a sleep-over. A silly, girly sleep-over as a monument to those grand high school days. "I know, but… but aren't you happy?"

He smiled at her. Yes, he certainly looked just as thrilled as she felt. Oh, this was fantastic! "Monique, this is a total miracle! Of course I'm happy!" He hugged her again, this time adding a fervent kiss on her mouth. He was a bon-diggity kisser, there was no denying that. "I guess I'm just still in shock."

"I don't think shock has hit me yet." They had barely made it to Ron's beat-up Chevy Cavalier. "I'm just so stoked about this. Maybe tomorrow. I'm thinking I should call in a substitute."

"I wonder if I dare skip lab time tomorrow."

Monique laughed. "Remember back in high school when you could care less about class?"

"Yeah, but now I'm actually paying money to go to school, and that kind of tends to change perspective, don't you think?"

"One more year, Ron. One more year. I'm just afraid we'll fall in love with our sad little townhouse and never leave even when we can afford more."

He laughed. "I like the townhouse already!"

"I'm just saying…"

"This is exactly why I love you."

This time she didn't wait for him to kiss first. She wasn't a bad kisser herself. "I love you, too."

He finally got around to opening the car door for her. "Monique, I gotta know something though."

She froze. Probably the same question that had just popped into her mind. "You want to know why we didn't tell Kim about us?"

"Yeah." He started the car. "Because I kind of think she should—"

"Know. Totally. Why didn't we think of it in there?"

"Because you were way too excited to think clearly?"

"And you never think clearly?"

He sighed as the car turned the corner. "I was just happy to see Kim. You know, she's back from the dead. All I could think about was her."

She nodded. That had to be it, didn't it? She had felt the same way exactly. "It was Kim's moment, not ours. But she does have to know. Because of you and her…"

"That was in high school, Monique."

She squeezed his hand. "What does that change?"

He squeezed her hand back. "We are really going to need a plan for this."

"Oh, yeah."

Then they returned to talking about how great it was to see Kim. Monique really didn't want to think about anything else.

* * *

Kim's eyes snapped open. She was fully awake, though the room was dark, save for the moonlight streaming through the window. There wasn't supposed to be moonlight… she grinned as realization hit her, and hopped from the bed. Her bed, she realized. She jumped back into it face-first. It still smelled just as she remembered it. The fluffy pillows, her blankets, they had kept it all!

Her parents were there, sitting on camping chair they had brought up. She watched them for a moment. Wow, how she loved them.

This had been such a wonderful, wonderful night. To think she had ruined it by falling asleep in the middle of conversation.

Apparently Ron and Monique had already left. Damn. She had intended to ask Monique about that sparkly ring on her finger. Now that had been an important scrap of knowledge not passed along! Just because she had been dead for six years didn't mean she couldn't love a little romance.

She felt ridiculously girly.

And then there was Ron. Ron. Her heart quickened. If she hadn't been so excited to see everyone… she just wanted to talk to everyone, individually.

When were the tweebs supposed to back? Who else in Middleton was there to see? Everyone.

Except Tara. If she could have only returned earlier. Maybe she could have saved poor Tara.

It was like a wrecking ball of emotion. She hadn't even been close friends with the girl. She had known for hours. But the tears were coming anyway. The story Brick had told her…

Brick had given her hot cocoa. That sounded exceptionally good. Drown her tears in chocolate.

She crept down the ladder as her parents slept.

She remembered every light switch, but didn't bother to turn any of them on. Back in her cell, she had been given quite a good amount of control of light. Now it was like defiance to not work anything else. She could see well enough, anyway. Make her way to the kitchen.

Something moved. Kim froze.

"I thought I'd find you here, Kim. Got to be more creative. But hey, I completely understand why you would want to come here. Who wouldn't?"

Shego. Kim leaned against the wall and sighed. There was a light switch near her, maybe it would be a little more logic to hit it. "So you found me."

"Like I just suggested, it was pretty easy. I do like your house, you know that."

"Shego, I just want to stay here."

"Ah, what sort of gratitude for a rescue is that?" Shego flicked on a light herself. "I gave you a few hours to get all caught up. And I promise, I have no intention of landing you back in an underwater prison. Help me, and I will never, ever bother you again."

Working for an enemy. Yuck. "What do you want?" So not the answer she wanted to give.

Shego reached to her neck. From under her shirt she pulled out a gold locket. Heart-shaped. She undid the clasp and handed it over. Kim found herself taking it.

Inside was the same smiling boy she had seen in the photo album.

"That's my son Brexton," Shego said softly. "He's four."

A son! Kim's heart twisted as she gave it back. "I never imagined you with a son. You're hardly mother-of-the-year material."

"Hey, I'm a good mom. You just haven't seen me in action. No junk food, enforced bedtime except on weekends, and I even had him reading. He was kidnapped three months ago."

Kim figured as much. How sad. "Why didn't you call the police or something? I think they'd put a missing child over putting you back in jail. Why did you…?"

"Break you out, princess?" She shrugged. "Sometimes I don't even know. But I have some reasons. I know you. I trust you. I've seen you fight, sneak into places. You're pretty good. And for the level I need, law enforcement can't manage it."

"There could have been other people to hire."

Another shrug. "Sue me for being sentimental. I have a few more reasons. His name is Darren Sharp. Former partner of Garrison Wiles. Back in the day, when you were putting old Wiles in the slammer, you saw something you weren't supposed to see."

She could barely remember any of that. It had been so long ago. So unimportant.

"And you have a friend. Your computer kid from before. Wade Lode, or something like that."

"What does Wade have to do with anything?"

"I'm not even sure. All I know is that I've heard of connections between him and Sharp, and you're connected with him. That's all I know, but I figured it was good enough."

Kim was getting the distinct impression she wasn't being told something. "So you want me to blackmail this guy? Shego, I'm sorry about your son, but I don't understand…"

"It's out in Wyoming. At least that's where I think they're keeping Brexton."

"Why did they take him?"

"Kim, I honestly have no idea. I just want my son back. And you know something that can get us into that building. It's not just any building. Sharp has good ones. I've tried everything I can. And now, as much as it kills me, I need your help. You're Kim Possible. You can do anything or so you said."

"But—"

"You're mostly dead still, Kimmie. And no one is going to pay attention to a little former dead girl. You have the right connections. You can make Wade help me."

Kim had no idea what to think, much less say.

"I brought something else," Shego continued. She pulled an item for her coat pocket. A folded piece of printer paper. "I thought it might interest you."

Kim took the paper and read it. It was a print-out of an internet page. A wanted poster.

For her.

"It's from six years ago," Shego said. "Did you ever wonder how Wiles knew where you were that day?"


	6. Nightmare

_It was early afternoon. Summertime came on hot in the Idaho wilderness, like a fire pit with flames barely gone. Sweat and dust caked over Ron's skin. Thank goodness for the breeze rustling through the trees. The air smelled like trees, trees, dirt, and air--that whole wild smell so many found appealing. It wasn't bad, not really. He allowed himself a taste before shoving the 4-wheeler into the next gear. The vehicle was certainly an affront to all this nature. _

_But at least it made noise, and that was all he really wanted. Noise was good. Noise meant something besides birds and squirrels existed in this place._

_He couldn't see any tire tracks, but the ground was so cluttered it didn't mean anything. The 4-wheeler bounced over the remains of the path. He was going too fast for reasonable safety, but he didn't care. His gaze scanned the area, looking for any sign of Kim._

_Maybe he was just being paranoid. No, he hadn't seen her in half an hour. That was too long. She had been just behind him._

_A flock of birds streaked over the sky. Ron bit his lip, drawing blood, and squeezed the handles harder._

_"Kim!" he called once more. His throat was swollen with screams. How did he know she was around here? She was probably far ahead. He was going the wrong way and she was going to be furious. Yeah, well, he was worried and he couldn't shake the feeling._

_The blast of the shotgun was deafening._

_The 4-wheeler all but rolled into a stop and Ron was on the ground before that stop had even been made. Too late he thought of following the sound, but he felt a little more comfortable on his feet. And the sound was close. Up a rise in the ground._

_Birds were flying from everywhere. Gunshots terrified birds._

_A loose root tore the leg of his pants. He tugged himself free and kept running. Dirt, dust, rock, tree… the smell was dizzying._

_"KP!" he shouted. "Where are you?" Why was he so scared? It was just some hunter after birds. He probably even brought his dog with him._

_Footprints. He whirled around an oak._

_Kim knelt in the grassy middle of a clearing. How cliché. Her face was a pained grimace, her hand pressed against the bloodstain growing on her thigh. _

_This was a really lousy shot of a hunter. _

_"Kim!" He ran toward her just as another gun went off. Shotgun. Then another blast, then another. Someone could really reload._

_The aim was perfect. Fire after fire after fire._

_Kim's head snapped back with a scream. She flopped to the ground like a rag doll. Her clothes were torn, blasted through. Ron could see snatches of blackened skin._

_He didn't know if he were screaming or not._

_The shots kept coming, big, clumsy, and noisy, but always with true aim. _

_Ron slid into the ground, arms before him ready to scoop up Kim. Shots came from multiple directions, lightening-quick and burning. Her body was oddly light as he rolled over her and pressed her into his chest._

_A shot struck his shoulder. Three shots, different guns. He gasped and fell back as Kim shook with miniature explosions. No longer a rag doll but a trembling marionette._

_No. It was the first word to hit his mind and he hated it. Another shot hit his leg, another his torso. All this with a couple of old shotguns. He grabbed for Kim again, scooping her into his arms. The shots kept coming. He rose to his feet. He didn't hurt; in fact, he didn't feel anything. Good enough. _

_He ran for the trees like they would actually provide shelter, deciding he would never laugh again at a shotgun. At least not a grouping of them._

_He wasn't sure how far he ran, but at some point all energy left him. He sunk to his knees, choked for breath, and realized how much blood covered him._

_Kim was still in his arms, head resting against his shoulder, eyes closed and face ghastly pale. He ran his fingers down her cheek. _

_The back of her head bled._

* * *

His own scream awakened him. Ron sat up in bed, suddenly desperate for the summer breeze of the dream. His dorm room was dark save for the numbers of the clock radio and the glow of his phone. Even the window revealed nothing. What, no one on campus doing a little late-night partying? That would have at least been distracting. 

He grasped the air before him. Nothing but blankets and a few papers still on the bed.

Just a dream. He sucked in a lungful of air and forced himself to lie back down. The darkness was surprisingly soothing. He was in his bed, in his dorm… all was right with the world. It had been just a dream. It hadn't happened again.

But it had felt so real.

Then again that dream had always felt real, just as real as the true thing. The same horrible memory occurring over and over in the trap of sleep.

His heart rate was still something fierce.

_It didn't happen again, Ron,_ he thought. _In fact, it didn't happen at all. Kim is alive._

That didn't change the fact that it did happen. It just made the fact that it hadn't been Kim all the more miraculous. And that the last six years had been a waste of pain.

He closed his eyes and willed his heart to slow. He hadn't had that dream in three years. Three peaceful years. Of course, for the first year it had been every freaking night—even the nights he hadn't slept. He was supposed to call his dad if they ever came back, so he could worry and analyze the matter to death, but maybe that was null and void.

Kim was alive. That horrible, horrible day had meant nothing.

How exactly was he supposed to feel about that? He had never been good about sorting out lots of emotions.

If he went back to sleep, maybe the dream would come back. Even with Kim alive, he didn't want to think about that day again.

He still didn't remember how he had made it back to civilization. Forest Service or someone like that. Apparently they had found him in partial shock with his shirt torn up in efforts to staunch the bleeding. He had vague memories of the hospital, the funeral… yes, vague was certainly the word. More so he had memories of wishing they had just killed him as well.

Monique had gotten furious when he had talked like that.

Monique. He smiled. He could see her in his mind, a hyper little ball of excitement just told her best friend had not been murdered, told that Kim Possible was alive.

Kim was alive. His best friend since Pre-K. The girl whom he had spent two semesters of nothing but university trying to forget. She was back and he still had a million and one things to say to her.

He only hoped this wasn't a dream. There had been dreams of those types, the horrible ones that turned out to be completely false upon awakening. He didn't think he could deal with another one. So he let the day slide through his head, minute by minute. It took later logic to make sense out of the whole ordeal, and to that he was grateful. A good, sensible eye to the day's events. No black-outs, no weird hallucinations… yep, Kim was alive and his poor brain still had no idea what to do with that information. But he was happy. So, so happy.

But what in the world was he supposed to do now? As terrible as it sounded, he had gotten used to the idea that Kim was dead. What was going to happen now? The resurrection of Team Possible? Back to saving the world? And what about the wedding?

Holy naco. What was he supposed to say about that? Had Monique been suggesting anything about that?

He had dated Kim. He had been in love with Kim.

This was definitely awkweird.

He was madly in love with Monique.

But it was so weird to think about.

He took a deep breath and pushed the covers away. The panic of the nightmare was wearing away, but he clearly wasn't going to sleep. Heck, it was amazing he had gotten to sleep in the first place and now he was thinking about all of this…

He had projects he could work on. There were always projects. The final culmination of everything and he would finally be free of this place. He had never quite understood how he had been accepted into Upperton. One of those barely scraping by sort of things, he supposed. At least it had been something there after that awful summer, a soulless reminder in the mail of a beginning semester. It was something to do, something that didn't leave thought for anything but.

He switched on the light. Rufus stirred in his cage, but did not awake. Ron grabbed the nearest stack of blueprints and began sifting through them. Dr. Sharp wanted to see the plans before anything was built. It wasn't anything terribly fascinating, just a little robotics experiment that somehow still warranted mentors breathing down his neck.

They had never learned who had shot Kim.

All these thoughts again.

Shego had been on the scene. Apparently it was she who had called the rangers. Unlike her, but then again no one could have ever accused Shego to be lacking morals. She had been questioned, of course. It wasn't her. Wasn't even her style.

Kim had never been popular among the villains. It wasn't so crazy as to think of a villain who would want her dead. Too many, in fact. It was impossible to trace anyone. Ron had just wanted to forget about it.

He forced himself to look at the robot plans. Eh, it was good. Good enough. All it had to do was please Sharp. Sharp was eccentric enough. He remembered the man from the earlier years. He would spent entire class sessions rambling about bombs and bunkers. Some students had been convinced Sharp was a wannabe terrorist, and Ron had never quite dismissed the theory. Whatever made Dr. Sharp more interesting.

His cell phone beeped in the arrival of a text message. It was nearly 6. Who texted at that hour? Probably from his carrier. He absent-mindedly grabbed the phone.

The sender was an unknown. "Are you happy KP is back?"

He decided not to reply.

* * *

It didn't seem as if Kim would have any time to truly communicate with anyone in the near future, not properly and verbally, anyway. She was jolted out of bed by two huge bodies dropping down onto her mattress like bombs. It took her a good ten seconds to realize the bombs were her brothers. 

It was hugs, kisses, and tears all over again.

They were still as identical as clones, but so grown-up! No, not quite.. they were still stuck in a lanky teenage boy phase, but they were tall and muscular and no longer the little tweebs she remembered. They were filthy—she remembered her parents saying something about a dig, but like everything else she didn't care one whit.

"We really didn't think you were dead, Kim." It didn't matter which one said it. The statement was repeated several times from both.

"I heard," she gasped. Words were finally becoming possible. "Brick Flagg said so. He said you set up everything… the blood sample."

"And we were right," said Tim.

"It kind of made everything easier," said Jim. "At least at first."

"I have never been more grateful for anything in my whole life," she murmured.

Breakfast was waffles. Neither her mother or father went to work that day. It was like being six years old all over again. She didn't want to be any older than that, not for a long, long time. Today they would talk, all of them. It would be a family and friends day. Everything would be wonderful.

Who knew how long until the media caught wind of this? She didn't want to deal with any of that. Shego had told her she would be back, maybe tonight, maybe tomorrow. She was supposed to contact Wade.

She cringed. She didn't want to think about this. She wanted to be at home.

Who had set her up? Who had posted that ad?

"Something wrong with the waffles, dear?" Her mom was dressed up like the traditional housewife. She probably wanted to be Mom again.

Kim shook her head. "They're delicious." Oh, how she hoped she wouldn't burst into tears.

"You want to know who supposedly shot you," Tim said.

She really loved her brothers. She managed a nod.

"We never found out," said her father. "We never knew. It was a shotgun, of all things. Impossible to trace."

Her mother plopped another stack of waffles onto a plate. "The worst part was not knowing. I don't know who's going to eat these."

Jim and Tim's hands shot into the air. "We're home, Mom."

That was it. She collapsed into her chair and began to bawl all over again.

Kim watched in fascination. She had never been given this much interaction with the guards. People talking, crying, acting like people. Paying attention to her. She began to laugh.

"Kimmie-cub?" Her father was, of course, confused.

She shrugged. They couldn't understand. "I'm sorry. I'm just… so happy!"

The doorbell rang. Kim nearly jumped from her seat. The cell had not had any doorbells.

"Kim, you all right?" Jim grabbed her hand.

Then the door opened. "Hello? Possibles family?" It was Ron, plain and clear.

"In the kitchen, Ronald!" her father called. "We have waffles!"

He appeared in the kitchen doorway and for a moment Kim was thrown off-guard until she remembered this was no longer teenage Ron. Had she really seen him last night? It still seemed like a dream. "Hi, Kim."

She swallowed her current bite of waffle and hopped to her feet. "Hi. Sorry I fell asleep last night."

"Hey, KP, you were tired!"

She gestured at the table. "Are you hungry?" Ron was always hungry. At least that was what she remembered.

"You've been eating college food," her mother said warningly. "Your mom and I are both against you doing that."

"I sometimes have access to an oven," he said with a grin. "Actually, I was just wondering if I could take Kim for a walk."

She had never been outside. Of course, outside had been the ocean. "I would love to."

The day was nice. A little overcast, maybe, but even clouds were a welcome sight. She liked the breeze most of all. "Ron, I'm really glad to see you again."

"Yeah. You had better be."

She wondered why he wasn't reaching for her hand. Good grief, was she supposed to demand that? It had been six years. But it was what she remembered. "I'm really sorry about everything."

He laughed. It was great to hear a laugh. "Kim, it was hardly your fault."

"But I didn't want everyone to think I was dead."

"What did you think we thought?"

She shrugged. She had never come up with an idea. "Well, that was an option. I was sort of hoping for a rescue… but it was really a good rescue."

He flinched. Dang. She had said the wrong thing. "I would have rescued you. But you were dead. I'm sorry I didn't know…"

"Apparently this is futile." She sighed. The houses were wonderfully familiar. She had an urge to just break into a run. Run as far and as fast as she could.

But there had never been room to run very far in that cell.

She wasn't in the cell anymore. "All I'm saying is that what happened has happened and there isn't a whole lot we can do about it."

"I guess it just hurts to think about it. Kim, I really missed you."

She smiled at him. "And I missed you, too." What was she trying to do? Reignite romance after six years?

Well, why not? She opened her mouth. Nothing came out.

Maybe she could ask him to come to Wyoming with her. Team Possible all over again.

"What was it like back there, Kim?" Ron asked. "I mean, if you're okay talking about it."

That place… she shrugged. "I don't mind. It's not like I'm ever going back. It was… okay. It wasn't tiny. I had everything I needed. Books, paper… I kept a journal. The food was okay." She really did hate thinking about it. "I just felt so isolated!"

"How did you escape?"

Had she told him that yet? Would he believe it? "Shego."

He stopped walking. "You're kidding."

"No. It was Shego. She got me out."

"Why? I thought she would have been thrilled to have you behind bars."

"That's what I thought. But she needs my help."

He sighed and resumed walking. "You're going to help her?"

Another shrug. "I haven't decided yet."

"Someone breaks you out of… death, and you're not going to help?"

How could she even explain it to herself? "I'm out, aren't I? That's all that matters. And… I think I'll help her."

"What does she need you for?"

"To get her son back. Yeah, she has a son. I guess I can't let that kind of thing go on."

Ron closed his eyes. "Whoa. You're jumping far ahead of me. I'm still trying to deal with you."

She couldn't resist. She threw her arms around his neck. "It's like before, isn't it?"

He returned the hug. Wonderful. "I know. It's great."

She wanted it like it was. "If I am going to help her, I need Wade's help. I haven't seen him yet."

Ron frowned and scratched his neck. "Uh… I actually haven't been in contact with him since a little after your funeral."

Kim nearly tripped. "You haven't spoken to Wade in that long?"

"It just sort of… happened."

That wasn't supposed to happen. That wasn't supposed to change. But she only nodded. "Oh. Okay. I guess…" she put on a smile. "You know what? Let's just walk. I don't want to think about missions right now. So you're doing this mechanical engineering stuff now, huh?"

He nodded. He looked comfortable with that. "Yep. That's my life right now. I guess I'm smarter than I thought."

"Ron, you were always smart."

The next few minutes were spent in silence. She didn't mind. She liked it.

Then he spoke again. "Kim, listen… there's a reason I wanted to go on a walk with you."

"Oh?"

"It's… it's me and Monique. We're engaged. To each other."


	7. Communications

Precisely five seconds after the phrases were out Ron realized just how stupid he had been. He could already feel Monique beating him about it, tone shrill in the logical explanation of why you did not break such things to people in such a manner. He felt his face grow warm and something sprang up to block his throat. Stupid, stupid, stupid!

And yet how exactly was he supposed to release the news? Because it was certainly news to Kim even if everyone else in Middleton knew about it… He gritted his teeth and fought the urge to shut his eyes.

Kim stopped short. Her green eyes locked with his. They were the same eyes he remembered. She had aged well. If someone could age well in six short years. It was difficult to read her expression. "What?"

Good. She hadn't heard. No, of course she heard, she just did not understand. He stopped as well. The locked eyes were good. You could mean something when you looked at someone. He wouldn't be a coward, that would only hurt her all the more. "A little over four months ago I proposed to Monique. I proposed marriage. We're getting married." There. It couldn't get any more simple than that. He braced himself.

Kim's expression did not change. He wished it would. He hated crying girls, but he hated the silence even more. "I don't understand." Her voice was flat. Not hateful, not pained, just questioning.

He had been in love with Kim back then. Darn it, he hadn't expected it to hurt this much. And why the hell was he feeling so apologetic about this? "KP, Monique and I are getting married in three months."

She continued to stare at him, breeze catching in her hair.

He sighed and shook his head. "Kim, can you please say something?"

She shoved away the loose strand of red the wind had shoved over her eyes. Her lips were pursed. "Why?"

Why? What kind of question was that? "Because I love her, that's why." Ugh. Sounded a little more testy than he had intended.

Kim broke the eye contact with the faintest of whimpers. "Oh."

This was so not going the way he had imagined. Imagined? What had he planned for this? Picking up his best friend who had spent the last six years dead, taking her on a walk, telling her he was getting married… there really wasn't a guidebook for the situation. But he cared about Kim. He took a deep breath. Couldn't freak, couldn't freak. There was nothing about which to freak. "Is that all your going to say?"

She shook her head and resumed the walk, pace faster. "I… Ron, I wasn't dead."

He followed after her. "I thought you were. In my defense there wasn't a whole lot saying you were alive."

"Monique." She said the name with fascination. "I like Monique." Another shake of the head. The wind was picking up and more clouds were rolling in. How dramatically appropriate. "How long were you dating?"

Monique would probably know the exact answer. "About two years."

"I don't remember what I was doing two years ago."

This was so awkward. "Did you have amnesia or something weird like that?"

"No," she replied softly. "I just don't really remember." She bent down to pick up a leaf. "Didn't you miss me?"

How dare she ask that question. "Kim, of course I missed you. I missed you like crazy! Do you have any idea what I went through when you… when the clone… died? In my arms?"

She stared again. Her eyes were red and moist. Crap. "I died in your arms?"

He nodded. The worst moment of his life. "I don't like to think about it. But I was trying to save you. Or what I thought was you."

"And you're marrying Monique?"

It was practically an interruption. "Yes. I already told you that."

She crumpled the leaf and tossed it to the ground. "I can't believe this. Why are you marrying her?"

"I believe I answered that question as well."

Her hand flew to her eyes. She was clearly crying now. "I don't understand."

But he had already explained it! "Kim, it's been six years."

"And that's supposed to make a difference?" She all but shouted that. "Ron, we've been best friends since Pre-K. And then we started dating… Ron, six years doesn't change that."

He tried to touch her shoulder, but she jerked away. "KP, please—"

She hiccupped and wiped her eyes again. "I just spent six years in hell."

Probably worse than being dead. He felt his heart twist. "I know that."

"Ron, all I could think about was you."

Like he hadn't missed her. Like he hadn't wanted to die as well. "Kim, I know this is hard for you…" Yikes. Tacky thing to say.

"Of course it's hard for me! Everything has been hard for me! I thought… oh, I'm sorry. I shouldn't be acting this way. I didn't…"

It was amazing to watch. And suddenly and oddly distant, like a movie he was watching. She had been dead and now she was alive. He didn't understand it. She was here, in front of them, pacing the sidewalk, crying. It was Kim and he didn't know what else to think or feel. "Kim, do you want me to take you home?"

"I wanted to go for a walk." Then she threw her arms around him in an almost crushing hug. He hugged back. It was wonderful to feel her again. Then, just as quickly, she was off in a run.

* * *

The hotel room was quiet, but Shego was too lazy to turn on the television. That just might annoy the neighbors, and then she would have hotel management on her butt. She didn't need that right now. The kid at the front desk had no memory of her. He shouldn't. She had not been seen in Middleton for over five years. Were there any outstanding warrants around here? She had definitely served her time, but she didn't want to piss off the wrong people. Not people around here, anyway. 

There were plenty of other idiots out there to piss off.

She moved her papers around the desk—loose-leaf and over-sized index cards—and tried for the zillionth time to make some sort of connection. Like the heroine of those Sue Grafton novels. She was good at this sort of thing. She should have broke out someone like that. Kinsey Milhone, hadn't that been the name? Eh, she was fictional and certainly not as valuable as Kim Possible.

Boy, she hoped Kimmie would prove her cost.

One of the papers came clear. A list of staff at the University of Upperton. Irritating professors thinking they were so smart. At least one of them had pretended to be. Maybe she should give him more credit than that.

There was his name, his face, looking more or less the way she remembered it.

Professor Jackson Sharp, Department of Mechanical Engineering. E-mail, phone, and fax.

She wondered if she should call him.

No, too awkward. Instead she pulled her laptop from its case. Hooray for free wireless internet.

There wasn't much to say about the man, nothing that she didn't already know. Nothing horrible. He had always been a good guy. She couldn't complain. According to his page, though, he was only working with the master students. No matter what they pretended, that usually meant free time. Lots and lots of free time.

And how would Jackson spend that free time?

If she had managed to come up with millions in the multiples, she should be able to figure this out. Maybe sneak into his office. She wasn't that computer-savvy. But no doubt he would be there. Advising his precious students. How admirable.

Later.

Until then, she could play around on the site a little more. She wasn't Kimmie's computer kid of the old days, but she could manage some basic hacking. Or try to guess the password. Now what would a university professor of mechanical engineering in his thirties use as a password? On a lark, she typed in a word she imagined.

It worked.

That shook her. It hadn't been supposed to work. She had only been playing.

She took a deep breath—it sort of slowed her heart—and kept going. Onto the e-mails. Students, students, staff, university-wide junk mail, staff, department…

One e-mail looked interesting. Already been read. The sender address was one of those unprofessional, creative/cutesy things that revealed nothing. She opened it.

Her eyes went wide.

Fascinating. Apparently Kimmie had missed out on a few more things over the six years. Well, one task she had given Miss Possible lay right before her.

She copied down the address. She was going to start a little communication of her own.

* * *

The day was slow. Middleton was boring, had been so since its teen hero had supposedly died. Maybe things would perk back up now that she was alive. Though the murder of Tara Archer was plenty exciting. 

If only Brick had been allowed to be involved with it. But instead he was here filing paperwork on traffic violations. Oh, joy. Honestly, he didn't mind it, but part of the reason he became a cop in the first place was to have an adventure. Oh, how naïve and stupid he had been.

Well, Brick Flagg had never been known for his brains. He had been told that, never really had bothered him. High school had been a good time.

But, darn it, this was boring. One had to be one of the 'big boys' to have anything to do with the Archer case.

Maybe he was a bastard for looking at that as an adventure. He had known Tara. Shouldn't he feel more emotion that she was dead? He had felt emotion, actually, had felt the shock the rest of the Middleton graduates of that time period had felt. But it was a murder.

Maybe it was because he had known Tara he wanted to be a little more involved. But that was probably against the rules.

It wasn't like he didn't have any connection at all. After all, they had told him multiple times that he was involved, he was helping. He was calling down the Possibles to make them look at bloody pictures.

Copies of which he had in his desk.

No one was watching. He liked being sneaky. He yanked them out in all their macabre glory.

Decapitated. Wow. Who would actually decapitate someone?

Especially someone like Tara. What had Tara done to warrant that? She was a loveable nurse. A blonde, for crying out loud.

It was kind of interesting, though, that this had happened only a few weeks before the return of Kim Possible.

A knock came at his door. Speak of the devil.

"Come in," he said faintly. Wow, it was still weird to see the dead girl alive.

Kim opened the door and tiptoed in. She looked ill.

"Are you all right?" Brick asked. Of course she wasn't. And now she entered an office where a man was looking at pictures of a dead girl.

She shrugged. "I went out for a run."

Oh. "I thought you would be spending time with your fami—"

"I was."

He looked at the pictures again. Wow, they were disgusting. "I guess it's rough re-entering the land of the living." He forced a laugh. What a dumb sound.

Kim didn't bother to smile. "You have no idea. Listen, can I just… hang her a while?"

All he was doing was filing papers and looking at the Tara Archer pictures. "Sure," he replied with a shrug.

She collapsed into the extra chair against the wall. "Thanks. I guess… you were the first person to recognize me, so I guess that's why I came here…" She sighed. "Brick, can I ask you a question?"

He couldn't figure out why exactly Kim Possible would come here; that explanation didn't make much sense, but he didn't dare say anything about that. "Ask away."

"Did you know about Ron and Monique?"

Ron Stoppable. Yeah, she had dated him. He had remembered that. He had always liked Monique. Had taken her on a few dates before he graduated. Nice girl. Hadn't they been best friends? "What about them?"

"Did you know they were getting married?"

Brick stared at her. "Heck, no one tells me anything about anything around here. I had no idea."

"That makes two of us."

She hadn't expected Stoppable to wait for her, had she? "You just found out, didn't you?"

Instead of answering, she burst into tears.

How he hated crying women. There was a box of tissues on his desk. Most of them were probably gone, but he shoved it toward her anyway. "Here."

"Thanks." She pulled a tissue out and blew her nose. "Why are they getting married?"

"Probably because they love each other?" He flinched. Probably the wrong thing to say.

"They don't love each other!" It was amazing she could talk through tears. "They are my best friends. How could they love each other?"

He did have a reply for this, but he wasn't quite sure if he dared to say it. "Do you want me to get you anything?"

"Nothing is going to help." Her crying worsened and she grabbed for more tissues. "Sorry. Am I… am distracting you?"

"Just looking at those pictures." Was it appropriate to bring up a murder at this sort of situation?

She sniffed. "Tara?"

"That's the one."

Silence. For a long, long time. She sniffled her tears and he tried to imagine something about the murder. Evidence. He needed a list of evidence.

"I want to help with it," she said suddenly.

"What?"

"I'm going to talk to the chief. I want to help. I need to help."

* * *

_Any takers on who was e-mailing Dr. Sharp? Free internet nacos to anyone who gets it right._


	8. Evidence

The filing system of the Middleton Police Department had changed significantly from the few prior memories Kim had, memories of a stereotypical musty old room piled high with dented filing cabinets, boxes, and the occasional Zip-loc baggie of something that probably should have been refrigerated. The room Brick led her into was nothing of the sort. Apparently funding had come through to purchase organization skills. Or maybe a woman on the force had become sick and tired of the mess. Migraine-starting lights flickered partially blue over a nearly sterile room. The filing cabinets had been revealed to visibility, though a computer monitor now occupied a comfy spot in clear view. And some sort of cooling mechanism had been brought in: a tall case humming with electricity and filled with the traditional plastic baggies. Kim had to admit she was impressed. "It's awfully nice of the chief to let me in on this."

Brick pulled a chair out from the computer desk, stared at it, and shoved it back in before turning on the computer, his huge frame hovered over the keyboard. "You're Kim Possible. You're back from the dead."

Like she needed the reminder. Back from the dead, yes. Such a miracle. The miracle of life, in fact, and the way things changed no matter what. "He won't even let you in on the case."

Brick gave a dull laugh. "Are you going to ask what we are doing back here?"

No, Brick was not involved. She had never learned the ways of police business. Was he even supposed to be back here? "Looking at evidence? You asked my parents to come in and look at photos."

"It's called being a beaver."

Beaver? "You mean go-fer?"

He nodded, eyes not leaving the computer screen as his hand whirled the mouse about. "Yeah. One of those furry rodents out in the woods."

Good old Brick. At least he hadn't changed. At least he wasn't running off to marry… hmm… well, he had been fairly close with Bonnie. What had happened to Bonnie? Hell, why wasn't Ron marrying Bonnie? Her fingers clenched themselves into a fist, and she gritted her teeth. Look at the weird evidence case. Look at all the gross stuff in the plastic baggies.

Unfortunately the case seemed to be lacking in the particularly gross. A busted cell phone. Tubes of random bodily fluids. Yeah, somewhat on the disgusting side. Blood samples. Interesting. Had her own blood sample come from this place? Where they perhaps making Kimmie-clones from this very room? A genius could do a heck of a lot with a blood sample. Ooh, bloody clumps of hair. Black. Not Tara's. Unless Tara had dyed her hair. What would Tara Archer look as a brunette? The world would never know.

Why hadn't Ron married Tara? Why weren't Monique and, well, Brick engaged?

She stared hard at the hair sample, partially fascinated by how the blood had dried. Was this necessary to keep? Well, if it was to be of any help in solving a murder, it had to be. Sometimes painful things like that had to be kept, then put back in storage to be forgotten. Not because anyone wanted forgotten, for no one truly wants to just forget a murder.

She was nearly knocked out by her own smile. Of course. How could she have been so stupid? She stood awhile, still staring at the bloody hair, enjoying the sudden glow her heart was sending through her, before skipping off to Brick. Now that she had solved the first problem, it was back to mission mode.

After all, she was Kim Possible.

She gently touched his shoulder and peered over the screen. Folders, folders, folders. "Did you find what you were looking for?"

He nodded, the only movement in his body save for the clicking of the mouse over a folder given a random number. How could anyone remember such numbers? "This is it. Tara's."

Tara. The glow vanished as sudden realization swept over her. Wow. Tara had really been murdered. And she had received permission to investigate. She had always liked Tara. She could avenge Tara's death.

The glow returned. She truly was back in business.

Brick opened the folder to reveal, to Kim's sudden horror, jpg images of what had to be every photo of the incident.

"I can't get the real ones," Brick said apologetically. "I don't dare steal those."

Good grief. "You're not supposed to be in here, are you?"

"I'm the beaver, like you said. And it's not my fault people leave their keys in reachable places."

Oh dear. Brick Flagg dancing with the illegal. "You can't just—"

He sighed and turned his face to her with more gravity than she had ever seen in their high school career. "You wanted in, didn't you? And I knew Tara, too."

She bit her lip. There was no arguing with that. "But I have permission. You don't. I don't care if you're an officer now, if you're not supposed to be in here…"

"You sure have a lot to say for someone that just returned from the dead. Come on. Let me have a little fun."

A little fun. She bent closer to the screen, more fascinated with the grisly pictures before her than the fun samples back there. A little fun was something she had not had in a long time. "Who took these? You?"

"I wish."

The images were absolutely the most disgusting things Kim had ever seen. Clearly it was Tara, an older version of her but still recognizable. Her face was turned up to the camera, her eyes closed, thick eyelashes lining her lids like charcoal. Her mouth was calm, even peaceful. Everything was a complete denial of the mess that was her neck. Messes that were her undeniable in decapitation. Couldn't even see where the skull had been bashed in. The body and the head were a good three feet apart.

Kim's stomach churned noisily and attempted to lurch forward through her abdomen, but she gasped for breath and held that firm. Tara. Tara the cheerleader. Tara the angel. Tara who had become a nurse. A sweet little nurse. What could she have possibly done to deserve this?

Brick actually laughed, a laugh that even suggested mild amusement. How sick. "Sorry, Kim. I guess I'm a little desensitized. Just believe me that I want to figure this out as much as you. Maybe more."

What? So he could have a promotion? She shook the thought away. It was mean, bitter, and Brick did not deserve it without evidence. He wasn't Wiles. "Any reports?"

"Some people keep them in their desks. I could go through the junk over there, but…" He clicked through the files a few more times and brought up another document. "Randomness of the crime scene."

Kim scanned the list. Nothing meaning anything. Just… Tara stuff.

"The house had been cleaned over," Brick explained. "Anything the least bit suspicious or interesting… I don't understand it all because I kept out of forensics training, but…" His eyes widened with glee, and he scrolled down. "There was one thing. No one knew what to make of it, but I guess it was on her desk or something… here." He pointed to the screen and grinned up at Kim like a goofy child.

"Item," she read. "Pink post-it note reading 'Kim Possible'."

Why would Tara have her name written down after six years?

Six years.

She gasped, her mind swinging. She could work on the case later. "Thanks for everything, Brick."

"There's still…"

"There's other stuff I need to take care of."

She ran to the exit, hoping that Brick wouldn't get caught in there.

* * *

Shego was surprised at the quick e-mail reply. In the time it took to walk down to the vending machine for a Diet Coke and return, a fresh e-mail had found its way to her inbox with the tell-tale "Re:" in its subject. Rather pathetic her original subject had been an irritatingly generic "Hello" but she wasn't always creative. But it had worked and she now had a carrot for Kim Possible. She opened the e-mail and took a sip of her drink. It needed ice.

The e-mail was short and to the point. And it demanded the obvious.

_How did you know I was involved with Kim's death? Why are you still around? Have you said anything to her family or Ron Stoppable?_

Ooh. How delightfully paranoid.

_That happened a long time ago and I'm not proud of it. It was not what I wanted to happen and I would prefer not to think about it any more. _

_By the way, I know exactly who you are, Shego. Like a dead puppy couldn't crack e-mail. _

Very short. But it served her purpose. It was all she could do to keep from laughing and disturbing the neighbors.

But now to remember her two purposes: give Kim the information she wanted and blackmail.

She began to type her reply.

When she had Brexton back, she was going to rob a hundred toy stores. She could already hear the sirens. It made her heart feel that much better.

* * *

Monique answered on the first knock. She stood in the doorway, one hand still on the doorknob, and stared at Kim with all the shock of a deer in the headlights.

She had probably forgot she was not dead, Kim thought. She allowed the smile she felt to turn on. "Hi."

"Kim!" Monique finally said with a gasp. "Oh, my! I wasn't sure… I almost thought that everything had been a dream. And then to see you…"

"Still as smooth as ever," Kim said softly. Wow, but it was great to see Monique. "Can I come in?"

Monique nodded quickly, her own smile coming forth. "Sure! I mean, yes! Of course! Of course you can come in!" She stepped out of the doorway, holding the door open like a proper hostess. "It's my own little apartment. It's not much, but then I'm on a new teacher's salary and it is not my parents' house."

It wasn't like that awful cell. There was a huge difference between a cell and an apartment. Kim slowly entered, taking her time to look around. How cool it was that Monique had an apartment. Did adults really get to do things like that? "Monique, it's totally adorable!" It felt good to say useless phrases like that. But adorable was the truth. The front room was done in various shades of red and brown. Stylish and tasteful and very Monique. Cheap, of course, but Monique had made it look good. An old couch and a hand-made slipcover.

Monique blushed as she shut the door. "Thanks. I guess anything is cute after what you've been through…" The blush deepened. "Oh, my. I'm sorry. I didn't mean—"

Kim shook her head, though she was surprised that she did not mind. "I know exactly what you mean! But really, even if I hadn't spent all that time in hell, this is really cute." She studied a framed sample of dried flowers. "Did you make this?"

"Mm." Monique nodded. "Yeah, it's a weird hobbie, but it really is kind of fun."

"I like it."

"I thought you would." There was a long pause followed by a pivot in voice. "Kim, I can't believe you are back!" Before Kim knew it, she had been pulled into a hug, which she was quick to return. "I missed you so much!"

Kim hoped she wouldn't start crying again. "We have so much to catch up on."

Another pause. "Yeah, we do have a lot to catch up on." Monique broke away and wiped a tear from her eye. Mascara smears came with it. "Listen, there is something…"

Here it came. Kim could only smile. The explanation was already known to her. Monique would explain it. If Ron hadn't explained it, it was only because he was, well, Ron and could not express such things.

Monique gestured at the couch. "Maybe we should sit down."

"On your adorable couch?"

A laugh. "Five bucks worth of material. Clearance at the fabric place."

It was so good to talk to another female. Maybe, once this discussion was put out of the way, they could just… gossip. "I really do like it. Who knew you were so crafty?"

Monique beamed and sat herself down on the touch. "It comes with the whole elementary thing. Did you know that Barkin is actually the principal at the place now?"

That was a surprise. One of the bigger ones, actually. "He finally has a permanent job?"

"Apparently the principal thing lets him do whatever he wants and pays him more."

"Dang."

Monique coughed and brushed a strand of hair from her eyes. At least her hairstyle was more or less the same. "Ron said you two went for a walk this morning and that you ran off after he told you something."

Here it came. Kim looked down at her lap. "Yes, I did. Probably stupid of me, but you know me. I get emotional sometimes."

"Hey, girl, we all do." She giggled. "It's so wonderful to be talking to you again." Instantly the gravity returned. "So about what he told you."

"The engagement," Kim said automatically. She could deal with it, now that she realized the obvious truth of the situation.

Another deer-in-the-headlights look. "You were really upset. Your parents called up here… they were sort of freaking out."

Yeah. Really bad time to run off. But who cared? "I guess I did overreact. But you know how Ron can't—"

"Break anything gently," Monique finished with a nod. "I know, I know."

"Of course you do. You being engaged and all. And I really appreciate that."

Now Monique just looked confused.

Oh, dear. Maybe Kim should not have jumped so far ahead. Monique was probably scared. "Monique, I'm sorry. I can only imagine what this is like for you…"

"No, no." She shook her head. " You're the one that has to deal with this. We thought that Ron should tell you since he has known you longer and… everything. And—" She gave a short laugh and fiddled once more with her hair. "Well, you had known him forever, but a couple of years ago… well, you know that I have never minded Ron. But a couple of years ago I think I began to see what you saw."

Of course. That was to be expected. Kim nodded. "I'm really glad you two had each other while I was gone."

Monique's face spread into something of a dopey grin which quickly vanished. "So am I. He was a lot of help after you… supposedly died. He is great."

Kim frowned. She didn't want this to be painful for Monique. "But I'm back now. I'm not dead."

"I know. I still can't believe it."

Kim took a deep breath. It was all good. The conversation was almost finished. "I really missed everyone when I was in there. More than you will ever know. And I know that it's probably very awkward and weird and bizarre that I'm back now, but it's just as odd for me, too. But there really isn't anything we can do about that and, well, I kind of want to start seeing Ron again."

Monique blinked. "Huh?"

How more obvious could she be? Kim ran a finger over the slip-cover. "Well, he's been my best friend since forever and then he was my boyfriend and he really means a lot to me—"

"Kim."

"—And I really do appreciate you taking care of him while I was gone. I really do. I'm glad that you two had each other."

Monique stood up from the couch, mouth slightly open, worry written all over her face. "Kim, can I get you a glass of water or something?"

That would only detract from the conversation. She shook her head. "Maybe I should be talking to Ron about this, but you are my best girlfriend, Monique…" She tried to slow down. This was a bit much, her being back, but it might as well happen sooner or later. "And I thought I should talk to you first."

Monique did not sit back down, nor did she go for water. "Kim, you're upset. You have been through so much! I'm so sorry about that and I'm so glad you are okay, but you really need some rest."

Kim gave a low laugh. "You're telling me. But about you and Ron… I think it's really sweet you are engaged, but it's okay—"

"Kim, I'm not breaking this with Ron."

Kim gave another laugh, louder this time, while something inside of her plunged into her stomach. "I didn't mean…"

Monique slunk back into the couch, scooting closer to Kim so their legs touched.

Kim was surprised to see tears.

And Monique spoke again. "Kim, I was worried about this. I'm sorry. But I love Ron."


	9. Wyoming

Oddly enough, Monique felt plenty terrible once the words "I love Ron" were out of her mouth. But guilt was an emotion she could push away easily—one didn't become a teacher by giving into sad faces. What right did she have to feel guilty? It wasn't her fault, this entire situation of Kim being alive! No one's fault, it was a freaking miracle and Monique was not about to deny that. But what was that supposed to change? So what if Kim and Ron had been stuck at the hip since pre-K? That wasn't her problem. Her fingers leapt to her eyes to brush off the tears. She hated this, though. She truly hated this. Her best friend was back from the dead. Couldn't she be happy for five minutes about it, like she was supposed to and like she wanted, without having to worry about Ron getting stuck in the middle? And for an almost exhilarating split second she hated Ron. Wouldn't that be all the more convenient if Ron did not exist? She blinked a few times; she had no desire to cry in front of Kim, screw the past twenty-four hours and their emotional torrents!

Kim just sat there on the couch, hands tightly in her lap, nervous smile over her face.

She looked so young, Monique thought suddenly. They had been teenagers the last time they had seen one another, but Kim had grown. It was her expression, mainly, Monique decided.

Naïve.

"I love Ron," she repeated. "I fell in love with him. I'm sorry." Why was she apologizing?

Kim's smile only wavered slightly. "Monique. You can't…" Then the smile fell apart as Kim swung away from Monique. "Oh. I didn't think… Monique!"

Kimmie breakdown, came the automatic thought. Just like high school. "Kim, let me go get you something to drink." Of course she would have to get up from the couch to do that and for the time being Monique was frozen to that stupid clearance fabric slipcover. And she had made Kim cry. Great. The girl spends six years in a cell only to come out and find her life still ruined. "I have… I think I have juice as well. Maybe some Dr. Pepper. What do you want?"

Kim shook her head with the slightest movement, yet her hair shook. She stared at the ground, eyes wide and red.

The piercing needles of guilt returned, and Monique once again shook them away. They returned just as fast and accompanied with something else that she could not quite place. It hit her in the stomach, though.

"No," Kim said softly. "No, thanks. I'm fine. I'm not thirsty. Oh, no, no, I'm not fine." Her head shot up and their eyes met. "Monique, I am really sorry, but I have to go."

Monique found herself on her feet. "Kim, I did not mean to upset you."

Kim nodded in agreement. A reflex, it seemed, to the simple fact that someone was talking. "I know. I didn't mean to upset you. It's just that I'm really not sure what to think anymore. I'm so confused. I'm sorry about what I said, it was really, really stupid to say. Dumb."

No, it wasn't. It was probably what she was feeling. Monique took a deep breath. "I don't know how far I can apologize for this—"

"Don't apologize for it."

"It just sort of happened, Kim. I didn't mean for it to happen."

Kim stood up and marched for the door. "I'm sure that everyone thinks I'm totally crazy right now and I probably am. I don't know what I was thinking."

Just stop talking, girl, Monique told herself. Just stop talking. You've always been the cool one. Don't talk. "Kim, you were dead."

Kim froze, one hand on the doorknob. Then she let it go, whirled around, and threw her arms around Monique. Monique hugged back fiercely. "Monique, I have to go before I become angry with you. I can feel it. Goodbye."

Then she left.

Monique still stood by the couch, the old thing with the cute little slipcover she had made for it. All her crafty little doodads of fashion. Then she collapsed into it, squeezed a pillow to her chest, and bawled.

She cried until her throat ached, until she had put about half of what she felt into tears and her make-up ran. How she hated raccoon eyes! She hadn't cried like that in… heck, she didn't know when was the last time she had cried so hysterically. Probably not since Kim had been killed. Or the Kim clone. Either way, it had been Kim enough. She had been sick about that forever. She had cried plenty then. She had hurt, she had mourned, and then she had pretty much moved on because that was the healthy thing to do.

It wasn't fair. Her best friend had died. Then she learned that it had not been her best friend. Her best friend was alive and back in Middleton. It was supposed to be wonderful. And it was. Monique had never been so happy. She had danced around her apartment for forty-five minutes after Ron dropped her off. It was only from sheer exhaustion she had left bubbling glee to fall asleep. She was happy, she was thrilled, she was exuberant, she was in need of her classroom thesaurus to come up with more words to describe her feelings. But that other feeling had been there the whole time. It was the reason she hadn't said anything last night about the engagement.

It was so stupid. Kim and Ron had been six years ago. And they had dated what, a year? So they were best friends. So what? Ron loved Monique. She was the one wearing the damn ring.

And it wasn't like she had stolen Ron the moment the last bit of earth was in place over the coffin. Not that she had avoided him. Ron had been Kim's boyfriend, Monique her best girlfriend. And the two of them had been friends, all right. Nothing wrong with that. She had visited him in the hospital after the shooting. She still remembered that. He was hysterical over Kim, so was she, but he was the one with his shoulder all torn up with bullets. He was the one that had witnessed the whole thing. They had talked, comforted each other. It wasn't until four years later that he had specifically asked her, as a date, to a water park. They had been close before then, but wasn't that to be expected?

How had Kim put it? The girl had accused her of helping Ron through a hard time! She had practically told her that it was okay, she didn't have to date Ron anymore, and the chore was over.

It made her angry just thinking about it.

But she couldn't be angry about Kim. Kim was alive and Monique was happy.

She really hated emotions sometimes.

When she had control over herself, she grabbed her phone and dialed Ron. He answered quickly.

"Monique! How are you doing, sweetie?"

He sounded stressed, himself. She sighed. "Not fine. I just talked to Kim."

Silence. "Oh. She came over?"

"Yeah. She came over and she's still in love with you."

It was his turn to sigh. "Yeah."

Are you still in love with her? Ugh. She wished she could ask that. But that wouldn't be fair to anyone. "Ron, she asked me to break up with you."

"You're not going to obey her, are you?"

She laughed, bringing with that a few more tears. Good. That was what she needed to hear. "No, I'm not going to break off the engagement because I love you."

"That's good." He sounded like he had something else he had to say. That was the problem with phones. Communication could only be so personal.

"I thought you would approve. But she still loves you. You still care for her, don't you?" Her first hope was that he would say yes. You didn't spend half your life with someone and not care for them.

But what would that mean?

"Of course I do, Monique. You know what she means to me."

The sob snagged in her throat.

"Monique, are you okay?"

She sniffed. "Ron, I'm sorry. I'm just so confused right now."

More silence. "Monique, I love you."

"I know."

* * *

Kim had always imagined that there could be worse things than that cell. She wasn't that stupid. People were tortured everyday in ways she could not comprehend. Wiles had not exactly tortured her. She had a bed. She had books. The things she had read during that time… the classics: Shakespeare, Tolstoy, Dumas, Bronte, Darwin. Historical documents. Maps. Science books. The occasional trashy novel. She had activities. She could write, draw, paint, exercise. The food had been all right. 

But they days, months, and years had blended into one another. It was not like she had no way of recording time. She could always know the when. She knew how much time passed. It was always there in front of her. And she had known things were changing on the outside. She wasn't stupid.

Why wouldn't have everyone moved on? She remembered hoping they would, if they didn't find her. She wanted to be rescued, she did not want them to give up hope. But neither did she want them to be sad.

Goodness, had she really thought of herself as dead in there? After the first little while, maybe. She had tried everything to escape. But it had been no use. Not possible.

She just couldn't believe Ron and Monique had fallen in love. Her mind fought over it, the logical stating the obvious "why not"? Monique and Ron were friends. She wanted what was best for them. In spite of the truth they had both thought her dead. Not pleasant, but logical.

Then her heart chimed in, screaming that Monique had stolen Ron.

"Kim?" Shego called from somewhere above. "You all right down there? You're not wussing out on me?"

Kim shook her head, suddenly recalling where she was. The middle of nowhere, Wyoming. Night time. The building was cement and steel, planted like Area 51 in the middle of sagebrush and dust. The stars stretched head, solid and gleaming. Kim breathed in the air. So, so fresh. Unbelievably fresh. Her hands were wrapped around the rungs of a latter. "No, Shego. I'm not."

"You'll get to relax, I promise." There was a thump above—Shego had reached the roof. "Just help me out tonight."

"I thought you wanted more help than just me." Kim pulled herself the rest of the way up. Focus on the moment. Focus on the moment. She could worry about Ron and Monique later.

"I told you," Shego said. "Change of situation. Huge change. I probably didn't need to break you out in the first place. Would have saved me a bunch of money."

So she wasn't even worth her weight as a hero, anyway. "Well, I appreciate it." She scampered onto the roof. She wasn't wearing her old mission clothes from back in the day. Just jeans and a shirt. It worked well enough. "I thought you wanted me to bring Ron."

"You're the one that didn't want to bring him." Shego settled down, Indian style, in the middle of the roof, one hand clenched around her locket. Kim had never seen her look so happy, so exhilarated. "But that's okay. That's okay."

Kim's intuition wasn't terribly pleased with Shego's words, but Kim really didn't care. She had beat Shego plenty of times. If she tried anything, she would beat her again. "You paid millions to free me, Shego."

"I got lucky. I found something. But don't worry, princess, you're still Plan B."

"And what am I right now?"

"My assistant." She laughed. "Dang, but that is fun to say! I don't care about paying millions. I'll just think of it as some other investment towards Brexton. Fortune came my way. Maybe I had to pay millions for that fortune. Besides, you were always a worthy adversary."

Wow. A compliment. Kim felt herself blush. "Thank-you."

"No biggie." Shego took a deep breath and fell back. "Isn't it beautiful out tonight? I mean, Wyoming's a pretty ugly state, but this, these stars, isn't it beautiful?" She laughed again. "I bet you never would have pegged me for the romantic type."

"No, not really." Kim sat down next to Shego. "Now what are we doing? We're here. You found the place. Now what?"

"We wait. Do you have the time? I have the codes and the plans of this building, but apparently we have to wait until precisely 1:13 AM."

"Why?"

She shrugged. "Let's say I trust my source. Or I had better. Or he will be dead. I swear."

Kim had forgotten just how threatening Shego could be. "You'd do anything for your boy, huh?"

"You had better believe it. In fact, I was going to… never mind."

"Huh?"

Shego sat up. Her face was still glowing. "I've never been the type to reveal my evil plans before they come to pass. It's something I try to avoid, at least."

It was unbelievable Kim was going along with this. But it was better than being in Middleton right now. And Shego hadn't tried to kill her yet. Was she yet another prize for someone that Shego was going to give up for Brexton? She stared into the distance. She could make out the faint outline of mountains. She didn't really care right now if Shego was just going to sell her out. Shego wasn't telling near enough and Kim could not care less. "What else has happened since I've gone?"

Shego shrugged. "Not as much as you might think. Life."

Life. That almighty answer.

"What about Dr. Drakken?"

"Still trying to take over the world. I haven't spoken to him in awhile. I quit working for him about the time Brexton was born."

Brexton. At least Shego had something to look forward to. "About Brexton," Kim began. "Is Drakken the…" Wow, what a weird thought.

Shego raised an eyebrow. "The father?" she said with a smirk. "Hell no. Wow, Kim, but that place did some havoc on your senses. No, Drakken is not Brexton's father in any way, shape, or form, trust me. I should kill you for thinking that. I don't think you've met Brexton's father. No super villain. Nice guy, though. I quite liked him. Sometimes you just need a great guy. Not that Drakken wasn't good. I think he was almost as excited about the baby as I was. Kim, if you ever get pregnant, do not let Dr. Drakken throw you a baby shower. He basically built my kid some weapons. But it was cute he was excited, don't get me wrong."

"I still can't believe you have a kid."

"Like I said, I'm not a bad mom." Shego brushed her hair back. "He's in there, Kim. I know he is. Somewhere in this building is my son and I want him back."

"We're here," Kim said. "Just break in."

"This is no ordinary building, Kim. Not at all. And I've learned patience. It's running out, but at least I still have some. I know exactly how to get in here. Too bad there is a timing for the codes. This is one secure building. And… we still have about fifteen minutes! I can't wait!" She took a deep breath. "So. You miss that cell yet?"

Kim almost laughed. "That was what I was thinking about back there. No, I do not miss that cell. I rejoice I'm not there every time I think about it. But I was thinking about it."

"What did you do all day?"

"Nothing," she said honestly. "Absolutely nothing worthwhile. I was a prisoner, Shego. Whoever put me in there ripped away my entire life." She shook her head. "It's funny. I had these books in there. I still remember one. _The Count of Monte Cristo. _I mean, I read it back in junior high, but that was then. It's about a guy who gets locked up in prison. He's innocent, too. That's the clincher. When he escaped, he sought revenge on everyone responsible."

"Yeah, I've read that one, too," Shego replied.

"I remember that sign you showed me last night. I just… I just want to know who would do such a thing."

"What would you do if you knew?"

What would she do? Kim closed her eyes; she could still see the stars. "I don't know. I really don't know. My life was ruined. My boyfriend is getting married to my best friend. Everyone thought I was dead. Do you have any idea what it is like to be the dead girl? I was bored out of my mind. I was afraid I was going to go crazy. I probably did. I went about today and half the time I thought I was crazy. And I don't want to be like that. I hardly even know who I am anymore. In answer to your question, I think I'd probably kill them. Him. Her. Whoever."

Shego said nothing for a long time. Then she climbed to her feet. "It's time. I need my boy."

As Kim watched, Shego made her way over to a spot of roof that neither looked particular special or was in a particular spot of the roof. It was just… there. Of course, Kim had failed to see any doors on the building. It was a special building. Boring-looking, just an abandoned rectangle. But if Shego had not broken in yet during the past three months…

Shego pounded into the floor four times. A portion of metal slid away, and up appeared a consul. "It's time," she muttered. She began to type.

"Time-based password," Kim mused. "You have that information?"

"Yup. All it took was a little persuasion." She kept typing.

"Are you sure you can trust them?"

"I told you. If these don't work, I'll kill him and he knows that."

"Who's 'he'?"

Shego did not reply. She hit a final button, did a rather odd dance of joy, and ran back toward the ladder. "Let's go. Door's open."

Sure enough, a panel had slid open on the building's perimeter and Shego was running through it as fast as she could. Kim could scarcely keep up.

Shego was being stupid, Kim thought. Like she would trust passwords on this kind of security. She thought she was being all patient, but all Shego wanted was her son. Something was going to go horribly wrong.

"Shego!" Kim called. The building's interior was nothing out of the ordinary, visually. Bare metal. A single corridor stretching a short way to another locked door. Shego was already punching in the next password.

"Don't worry, Kim," she muttered. "I'm being careful. He knows I'll kill him if he lied to me. He knows that. If he plays any tricks on me, I will find him and I will kill him."

Shego was crazy. Or maybe Kim was just paranoid. She hoped neither. For Shego's sake.

Shego continued to type. Then she hit enter.

Kim screamed and ducked as a fine, gleaming laser shot over her head. They were all around her, streaming from the walls to create a deadly jungle gym.

"No!" Shego shrieked, dodging a laser. "He said this was the right code! He said it!"

Kim grabbed Shego's arm. Shego fought her away and continued to fight with the consul, bashing in the buttons with her fists. "Shego!"

Shego was crying now, tears flowing down her face as she continued to shriek. But she went green, at least, blasts of green fighting back the lasers as Kim drug her toward the door. Kim's eyes were mostly closed. The laser light was plenty blinding.

"Brexton!" Shego screamed. "Brexton!"

They rolled out into the sagebrush. They lay on the ground, tangled together, as Shego continued to scream and cry. Kim wasn't sure what to expect next. The building to explode? Nah, that would just be a waste of money. She pushed the sobbing Shego away as the lasers finally began to die away. She wondered if she had been burned. She was too tired to check.

What a lousy mission. But she had known it. No matter what Shego thought, she couldn't handle this.

"He told me the codes," Shego muttered. She was crying into the sage. "He sent me the codes. He told me I could go in, find Brexton, and get out. He told me I could."

He had failed to mention the death part. "Who did that? Why would he tell you that?"

"Blackmail," she gasped. "I blackmailed him, and he gave me these and I… oh, hell, why did I believe him?" She screamed again and tore out the sagebrush. "I just want my baby back."

"Who told you?" Kim demanded.

"I found him today. Accidentally. Your computer kid from before. Wade Load."


	10. Photos of the Past

_Sorry! It's been months, I know! But I'm finally done with camp and can therefore write a bit more, because this one (like most of my other stories) was sadly neglected over the summer._

_Here's an update: Kim spent six years imprisoned by a Garrison Wiles, whom she jailed for money laundering. Shego bails her out in order to help her rescue her son Brexton. When Kim returns to Middleton, she finds that the world has moved on without her and that Monique and Ron are engaged. Tara has also been murdered, and Brick Flagg, now a cop, is fascinated by the case. Shego and Kim attempt to break into a building where they believe Brexton is being held, but it was a trap. Shego revealed that Wade was the one who gave her the codes._

* * *

In all honesty Kim had no idea what Shego was talking about. Wade Load. Another familiar name, another close friend. One that Kim was supposed to have looked up and brought to help on this mission. So she hadn't done that and Shego had done it instead. Okay. No big. No reason for Shego to be in the hysterics she was in, no reason that concerned Wade. Behind them the building hummed with the echo of ricocheting lasers. Kim knelt on the ground, chest heaving for breath—she wasn't used to this kind of action, was sadly out of shape, should have practiced more in that cell. If it were possible to practice anymore than she had. The ground smelt of dirt, sage, and something burning. The lasers. Shego was still in a huddle, sobbing fat tears. It was strange to watch. This wreck of a woman was Shego. Cool, calculating Shego who had blown everything on one fragile hope of getting her son back. After three months of being so studious and careful. One crazy moment of passion. "You talked to Wade Load today?"

Shego nodded vigorously. "Emailed him, to be more exact."

And Ron had told her that he had spoken to Wade since her funeral. "You just randomly emailed Wade and he gave you these codes that nearly got us fried?"

"I believe I just said that," Shego hissed. She had paused in her crying to say what Ron had earlier.

"Why would he give you those codes?"

"It's a long and complicated story, princess."

Wade's little lie about the codes had nearly got her killed as well as Shego. How ironic after her imprisonment that it would be Wade to almost do her in. She would have laughed if the fatigue had left her as much. "Why would he know the codes to this billing?" Silly question. Wade could get into anything. "Why would he give them to you? I don't care if it's a long story. I want to hear it." For curiosity's sake.

Shego lifted her head. She didn't look like herself, but some blotchy, sad creature. "You sure are naïve."

What an insult. Out of all the things one could call another. Naïve. Kim crossed her arm over her chest and frowned. Yeah, well, that wasn't her fault. She had been through more than Shego or anyone could dream. "You're the one that ran like a fool into a laser-equipped building!"

"On your friend's advice."

Kim did not have a reply for that.

Shego smiled faintly, though her eyes failed to look directly at Kim. "That's right. I see how you are thinking. Can't admit the mistakes of a friend. I would have thought more of you. You always had a good head on your pretty little shoulders to match that heart of gold. You saw flaws and you worked around them. Not going to work this time."

"What are you talking about, Shego?"

"I wanted you to get in touch with Wade. It was by pure destiny that I discovered him today. A few simple emails and I could blackmail him into doing anything I wanted." Her voice cracked at the end of the sentence and brought with it a few more tears. "I really will kill him and if you are as smart as I always thought you were you would join in."

Once again out of the loop. That had happened a lot over the past twenty-four hours. "And about what am I not being smart enough?"

Shego, with some effort, pulled herself to her feet. Her crying was returning, still soft and subdued at this point. "I brought you that want ad last night. The one of you."

Kim's breath caught in her throat. "What?"

"Oh, brother. You remember."

"Of course I remember. I just don't see what exactly the hell you are getting at. I know Wade. I've known him for years."

"Apparently not as well as you thought." The night went suddenly silent; the lasers must have given up their victimless attack.

This was crazy talk. "Why would Wade turn me in? He likes his pranks and all but anything more is ridiculous. He was twelve."

"I'm the one that emailed him."

"How are you so sure it's him?" Kim spat out the question with satisfaction. A tad juvenile, maybe, but still plausible and worthy of consideration.

A smile flickered over Shego's face. Whether it was doubt or gloating Kim could not tell. "Why would someone lie about that?"

"Why not? I've seen you villains. Logic isn't always needed."

"Wade Load is smart. You've said yourself. He'd have the power to do all sorts of things. And no doubt he knew where you were that day in Idaho."

It was like a faintly amusing story to which Kim listened in fascination. Wow, but Shego needed some serious help. To even suggest that Wade would do such a thing.

"Look him up and talk to him yourself."

"Gladly."

The possible satisfaction slid from Shego's face as she began marching over the sagebrush. Not another hysterical effort to return to that building, nothing, just sad defeat.

"Hey," Kim said.

Shego paused.

"We'll get Brexton back. I promise."

* * *

It was precisely 4:44 AM, at least according to the gaudily ornate cuckoo clock still ticking from Tara Archer's wall. Brick Flagg shined his flashlight over the hideous thing and wondered momentarily why the female gender had such silly taste. All this junk they thought was so cutesy and adorable just made everything disgusting. And then they had the nerve to complain about the way men decorated. Well, it was now 4:45 AM and if that thing had a bird jump out in fifteen minutes he would in the name of everything holy shoot it. He had brought his gun along with him. He shook his head at the clock and turned his flashlight away to scan the carpet. He wasn't exactly sure for what he was looking. Admittedly, he had never been the one most likely to put such time and thought into things, but he liked to tell himself he had improved much since high school. This work was like football. Sometimes one had to rely on intuition, a sixth sense.

There was not much at which to look at this point. The body had been pulled away, though the bloodstains remained just in case more evidence was needed. He hated to think what Tara would say if she saw her carpet in such bloody disarray. He let the beam lie upon it a moment. He had seen the pictures, but pictures never beat the real deal. Then, with a sigh, he swung the flashlight away and headed over to a rolling desk. Papers, books, a desk calendar. Doubtfully anything that had not been checked over yet.

But there had to be something. He would not have awaken this early to break into a house using only his police badge for protection, plus gun, to not find anything. A murderer always returned to the scene of the crime. Isn't that what they always said in movies and television shows? So they were fiction. Fiction had to be based on something. He hated to disturb evidence, so he told himself he was the cop and it was his responsibility to look at all of it. Besides, someone stupid at the station had probably rubbed off any tell-tale fingerprints.

He remembered that note upon which Kim's name had been written. So Tara had known something about Kim after six years. Maybe she had written something else. Amazing to think the two cases were connected. Though it would made perfect sense with Kim showing up when she did.

Kim. Kimberly Ann Possible. The cheerleader that saved the world. Amazing to think she had returned. Brick still did not know quite what to think about that. Fascinating. Cool. Exciting. And a heck of a lot more positive that a murder of another former cheerleader.

The desk revealed nothing. He moved onto the refrigerator. Not to open it—someone had already checked for more severed body parts in there. But sometimes people put stuff on their fridges with cute little magnets that revealed more than was to be expected. A shopping list, a baby shower invitation, a coupon for 25 off lawn fertilization.

Oh, who was he kidding? The force had leapt onto this murder with almost as much fervency as they had on the Possible case. The house had been searched. All evidence that existed had already been discovered.

But none of the discovered evidence related to Kim Possible save that one note.

Brick turned to the bedroom.

It looked as if nothing had gone wrong in that household. There was the bed, soft and flowery and all-around girly. A dresser. A vanity. All very clean and ready to be used, utterly ignorant of any death of the woman that lived there. He checked the top of the vanity, hoping for another note, a photo. He felt like a stalker as he poked among the jewelry and make-up looking for something that probably did not exist outside his own imagination. But it was kind of fun.

And he found something. At least, he thought he found something. There, nestled under bangles and necklaces, were two old photographs. Well, not old, but… he held them steadily under the flashlight beam and frowned at them.

They were high school photos. Not yearbook quality, just the kind of photos girls took of each other with personal digital cameras and all that jazz. One was the entire cheerleading squad at a booth at Bueno Nacho. Tara was in the foreground, sitting cross-legged on the floor with a soda. She wore her cheerleading uniform, though around her shoulders lay the varsity jacket of whomever she had been dating at whatever time the photo had been taken. The other girls were there: Hope, Bonnie (still looking as nasty as ever), and, of course, Kim. The other was of Kim and Ron Stoppable after the graduation ceremony.

Nothing disastrous in these photos. Brick knew how girls were when it came to snapping photos. Had to get every single solitary soul on that camera. He was tempted to toss them back into the jewelry box.

But why exactly were they out? Did Tara just get sentimental to see a picture of Kim after so many years? Sometimes Brick liked to look back at high school. Who didn't? However, as of late he had realized just how many pointless years he had spent there. He liked to think he had grown up past that. College had been a lot more fun, anyway. All that analytical crap and all. It was fun to use.

Or maybe he was just being bored and paranoid and wanted to solve a mystery. He could pretend it was a valid question: Why did Tara have out pictures of Kim? Why did she have Kim's name written down? He stared at the photos, silently demanding them to reveal something important. Instead his mind just wandered back to high school. Did Tara still possess any letterman jacket from any boyfriends?

Jacket. Closet. Maybe she had more photos in the closet. Maybe he was wrong and she had millions of photos from high school and randomly pulled them out. He strode over to the closet and opened it.

Something cold and heavy whacked his head from behind it.

Brick fell against the half-opened closet door, swearing and desperately reaching back to his head. His fingers came back wet, warm, and sticky. He stared at the blood for what seemed to be ages though it could not have been. His head swam, but adrenalin was already flowing down to the hand that held the flashlight. Good, heavy flashlight. He straightened and turned, flashlight-wielding arm spinning the fastest back around in the dark room. It was like holding a light saber.

Whoever it was aimed again. Through the corner of his eye he saw the figure, tall, dark, and all-around indistinct, shadowy arms swinging the object of bluntness. Brick ducked as it neared his head. The flashlight seemed to pop up with his arms and whack itself against the object. It tumbled to the ground with a heavy thud. The figure tumbled back onto the bed for only a moment before regaining composure and springing up.

The flashlight beam passed over its face. It wore a hood, but the build suggested it was a male. Brick stepped forward, swinging the flashlight again. His head was killing him. This bastard needed just as much pain.

But he was ready. The figure grabbed the flashlight and yanked. Brick held tight, though his other arm reached for the figure's shoulder. He took, squeezed it, and attempted to force the jerk onto the floor. For a moment the man did not resist; hand still grasped the flashlight, though. Brick tore it away. "You're under arrest."

It was like a cue in a stage play. The man sprang up from under Brick's hand and flipped backwards over the bed.

Damn it. "You're under arrest!" he yelled again, clambering for his gun. His hands reached his holster, and he realized the gun wasn't there.

The cold and heavy object. Damn it all again. How had this punk gotten…? It didn't matter. A quick glance at the floor did not reveal the gun and the man was heading toward the door. With a yell Brick tore after him.

The attacker stopped before the door. The hood had slipped back a little to reveal, again, nothing particularly distinct. A long nose, a flash of light brown hair. Definitely a man's.

"You're under arrest. This is breaking and entering. On a police scene."

The man reached for his jeans pocket and pulled out a knife. A simple, innocent knife, probably left over from Boy Scouts. Brick had half a dozen like it at home, stuff he had never gotten rid of, and the desire to laugh was overwhelming. It was only through sheer will power it didn't happen.

"Put that down," he demanded.

"What do the police know?" The voice was raspy, like someone recovering from a sore throat.

Now that was definitely worth a laugh. What moronic criminal would ask such a question? "About what?" He moved forward quickly, ready to grab the guy.

But the man moved first. Like a desperate crab he grabbed Brick's forearms. He was strong, surprisingly strong for someone of such a mediocre build. Brick gasped and pulled back, tried to dig into the carpet with his feet, but his right leg hit the side of the vanity. He twisted his hands around the guy's arms—an automatic reaction, but it worked. The man crashed into the mirror with an ear-splitting shatter. All light in the room collected on the tiny pieces of mirror that collapsed around them. Brick squeezed his eyes shut against the glass.

It was a bad move in other ways. He tried to maintain his grip, but the man pulled away. Instantaneously Brick felt the cool flicker of metal against his throat. From a silly Boy Scout knife.

"Try anything else and I will cut," came the hiss.

Brick kicked his leg out hard.

The man grunted and the knife blade came forward. There was one terrible moment of pain before the knife fell over his chest. Brick knocked it away and punched the man square in the face just as the window opened.

"What in the world?"

"Kim?" Brick reached for the flashlight—it had wound up on the floor. Kim was climbing through the open window as if she belonged there. "What are you doing here?"

"I heard noise. I… I guessed I missed something."

She had indeed. The attacker was unconscious and lay on the carpet at Brick's feet. He himself panted. His neck stung from the cut. The back of his head did not feel much better. "This dude attacked me."

Kim dropped on the floor. "I can see that. Who is he?"

Brick bent over and flipped the hood back. No one he recognized. "Seen him before?"

Kim studied the face for a moment before shaking her head. "I thought you weren't supposed to be here."

Yeah. That was going to create some trouble back at the station. "I heard a disturbance."

"Whatever." She looked strange in the moonlight. More like a ghost than anyone else in the world would have admitted. And tired. "I'll say you helped me."

Not fair. "I'm the one that took him out."

"And you could lose your job for it. What really happened?"

His head was really killing him, but he gestured at the closet. "I was about to go through her closet to look for photos and he came up behind me…"

Kim frowned. "Is there anything in the closet? Wouldn't the cops have already looked there?"

He didn't know. He knew he just hurt. Aftermath was not fun. "I assume so. But… but she mentioned you on that note. And in the jewelry box…"

"The smashed one?" Kim turned back to the remainders of the vanity disaster. "

He nodded. "There were photos of you from high school. One of you and the squad. One of you and Ron Stoppable." He cringed. Wait. She was on that whole shocker wedding thing about Ron. "I'm sorry."

Kim quickly shook her head. "No, no. It's all right. I… why would Tara have those photos out?"

He shrugged and reached again to the back of his head. It was still oozing blood. "Feeling sentimental. Or maybe she knew you were alive. Or something."

Kim started at that. "How would she know that?"

"I don't know. I… here, hand me the photos."

For the first time since she had arrived she finally looked at him. "Brick, you're drenched in blood."

"Like I don't know that."

"You need to see a doctor," she continued. "I'll say you were with me. We'll talk about this in the morning."

He grimaced. Yeah, a doctor would be good. "It's nearly morning already. Kim, where have you been?"

" Wyoming. It's a long story." She shoved open the door. "I hope you didn't mean that about the past six years."

"I'm sick of everyone talking about that."

"So am I," she muttered. "Did you drive?"

"Kim, I'll be fine." He certainly didn't feel fine. He probably had a concussion, for all he knew.

The rest of the house seemed like a museum after the mess of Tara's bedroom. They passed it through it silently before exiting out the front door. Outside, it was dark. Darkest before dawn.

"So you came back from Wyoming to wander the neighborhoods of Middleton?" he asked.

She shook her head, then nodded.

"Make up your mind."

"I was taking a walk," she said. "Stretching my legs. Thinking." I seem to be doing a lot of that lately."

Speaking of thinking… He swore. "We forgot the guy that tried to kill me."

Kim sighed, and they headed back inside.

By the time they had the half-conscious inside his car, Brick almost thought it was funny. Almost.


	11. Questions

Brick was fine. More or less. But nothing was even broken. Only a mild concussion. He felt like shit, though. But he had played football since junior high and a few bashings wasn't going to shake him.

He and Kim had dropped off that other punk at the station. They had a medical team there who could patch him up, the bastard.

Kim Possible just hung around, almost guiltily, like the entire incident had been her fault. Heck, he was just glad she had shown up like she had done. Kim had done that whole save-the-world thing before her supposed death; it was neat to have her around. Not that he hadn't managed to do most of the dirty work himself. Well, she had been there, had helped take out that damn body to the car… why the hell had she been out at that time of night? Walking? Thinking? Near Tara Archer's house?  
He didn't wonder about it too long. How dare he assume to know how people thought, people who had been through the kind of experience Kim had been through?

"Kim," he said. "I'll be fine. Go home and get some rest."

She still just paced the E.R. room while he held an icepack to the back of his head. "I still feel like I should have been there or something. I feel terrible about this."

"You're not the one who beat the crap out of me, Kim." Not that he doubted she could.

"Brick, the guy you cut you across the neck!"

"And that's a lot different than having one's throat slashed." He gingerly touched the spot on this neck. Nothing serious, but the neck was a sensitive spot, apparently. All the nurse had done was slap on some Neosporin and a bandage. All he really needed. "You can go home. Or whatever you need to do." Go back to thinking. He found the wondering coming back. What on earth had she been doing outside?

"It is late," said the nurse. Bless her little old heart. "You can leave, miss."

It took Brick a few seconds before he realized that the nurse had not recognized Kim as the famous Kim Possible. Understandable. Kim Possible was still dead to most of the free world. Hopefully that was a good thing. He did not know how the whole hero thing worked, but the girl might have an advantage if no one knew she was alive.

Kim bit her lip and looked away to no spot of the room in particular. She was a little odd that way. "Brick, are you sure you're okay?"

He forced a smile. "Are you worrying about me?"

She did not return the smile. "You were in Tara's house. This man shows up. I'm actually more involved with the case than you are. I want to know what he wanted."

"I'm going to interrogate him myself." She was right about the case. "I guess you can come along if you want."

For a moment she seemed to consider. Looked sorely tempted. He wasn't sure of whom she reminded him, but there was an odd longing on her still-skinny face. She looked utterly terrified and brave at the same time. "No," she finally said with a shake of her head that sent all her hair flying like one of those cloaks those weird gamer people would wear. "I… I have something to do."

"You sure?" Though he honestly would rather ask the questions himself.

"I'm sure. Feel better and don't die from that concussion. Bye, Brick."

"See you 'round, Kim."

Then she left.

The nurse sighed. "Glad to see she's gone."

The old woman had better not try to hit on him. "Oh, she's great, actually. Had a crush on me during high school."

"Speaking of high school," said the nurse. "You said you were at the Archer place, weren't you?"

Oh, right. Tara had worked at this hospital before her murder. "That's right, ma'am."

She sighed, and her old eyes became misty. Great. He hated crying women. "Oh, Tara. It's still too soon. She was such a nice young woman, and for her, anyone, to die like she did… it's tragic."

Brick knew that all the obvious questions had already been asked, but he heard them slipping from his mouth anyway. Well, if he wasn't going to look like the idiot show-off cop. "Do you know if Tara had any enemies?"

"Why would anyone be enemies with Tara?"

That was right. Tara had never been the type. She had never even been one of the snotty cheerleaders that had made up a good section of that old squad.

All the old high school photos. "I don't know, ma'am. Just asking the questions. But I'm sure you already have been asked them."

"Actually, none of the officers ever spoke to me. They all talked to Tara's friend Trudy up on the third floor." Her voice rose with excitement. Wow. She was all jumping to do a police interview over a murder of someone she said she had liked. Creepy.

"Did she ever mention Kim Possible?" Brick asked.

"Kim Possible?" She shook her head. "Not around me, anyway. That young lady died years ago. I read about in the papers. And in the magazines. I think they had something on the television about it."

For crying out loud, it hadn't been a political election. He almost said that out loud. And the nurse had missed the fact that Kim Possible had been right in her room.

Now she was reminiscing, leaning back against the wall as if there was no patient with a concussion in front of her. "Tara always was a sweetheart. She was going to be a great nurse. You could tell that immediately. She was simply one of those people. Why, I even remember some of the effects she had on the patients. Technically we're not supposed to get the drugged ones talking, but sometimes you can't help it. It's fun. She'd let them know about all the silly little things they ever had to say while they were under. Great girl."

Brick wanted to roll his eyes, but that would have just been rude. He had some punk to question. "I think I can head out now."

"Just remember to have someone watch your concussion."

Not a problem. He didn't intend on going to sleep tonight.

* * *

The other officers had found a wallet in the guy's back pocket. His name was Daniel Sprague and he had graduated from Middleton High the year before. And had apparently not pursued any other education. He sat in his cell, head against the wall, looking utterly bored rather than miserable. He didn't even look up when Brick walked inside. "I was sort of hoping I would have killed you."

"You're an idiot with a pocket knife," Brick reminded him. Why couldn't people realize they were idiots? "What was going on in that house?"

"I could ask you the same question. I heard those others guys talking. You weren't supposed to be in there."

"They like me," Brick replied calmly. That was always a good thing, being popular. "I was the football star back in the day."

"I hated the football team. They stuck my head in the toilet."

Brick had only done that on two occasions. Nothing personal, it was just kind of a fun thing to do. "What were you looking for in there?"

Daniel said nothing.

One of the other officers was outside, eating a donut, of all the cliché things to do. "Hey, Tony!" Brick called. "Did you get anything out of him?" They were all pushy enough that they would get to it immediately.

"We were actually waiting for you to do it," Tony called back.

Great. Of all the times to be thoughtful. Brick sighed and turned back to Daniel. "Did you kill Tara Archer?"

"No."

"Do you know who did?"

"No." He really did not seem to be fighting much of this chat.

Brick decided to work with that. Here they were, the stereotypical cell, cop versus psychotic killer in a hoodie. He could make this work. He could make it work more if his head wasn't killing him, but that was beside the point. "Who are you working for?"

"I actually don't know."

"You're being honest. And vague."

"Maybe I can see that I have been caught."

"Then you could possibly answer questions a little more specifically."

"I don't want to."

Brick felt like hitting him. "Is there anything you feel like telling me?" For some reason he couldn't quite get himself into the desired role of bad cop.

Daniel thought for a moment, lips curled out in typical teenage moodiness. Then his eyes brightened. "I'll just let you know that Tara Archer knew far too much. The usual thing." Then his fingernails picked sharply at the threads of his hoodie.

Brick had the distinct impression that something not good was going on, but it was as if he were watching in slow motion with a heck of a lot of confusion.

The hoodie tore and out popped a small round pink pill. Daniel popped it into his mouth.

Brick swore and grabbed for Daniel.

But Daniel's eyes sparkled as his mouth curved into a smile, a trickle of blood at the corner, bright against his already-dead face.

* * *

Ron wasn't quite sure what the subject of his dream had been, but it had been incongruous with the sound of something pelting against his dorm window. He slowly opened his eyes, wondering if it was that psychotic kid down the hall again sleepwalking and eating cereal.

It was nearly 6:00 in the morning. Almost time to get up, sadly enough. But he was so comfy!

And the sound against the window was continuing. He sat up, shook away the dizziness, as something tiny appeared and disappeared out of the corner of his eye. The window.

Another pellet whizzed up to strike the glass.

Like bullets. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. No more nightmares. No more damn nightmares. Just rocks against the window. He climbed from the bed and opened the window. If it shattered, he knew he'd be paying for it. And if it were for the crazy kid down the hall he would scream and maybe chuck out one of those heavy textbooks he had.

"Okay, okay, the entire building can pretty much hear you so…" He looked down.

It was Kim. Standing in the moonlight, hair everywhere, frowning up at him.

His heart gave a jolt and zipped him back into what had to be his dream. Kim dead all over again.

"Kim," he called down—amazing that his voice was working. "Weren't you…? Aren't you supposed to be in Middleton? Or Wyoming?"

"It's been a long night, Ron." She didn't look happy.

He sighed. This was probably a bad idea… no, no it was not a bad idea. Why should it be a bad idea? He was just going down to talk to Kim. In his underwear. Oh, well. He grabbed a jacket from the closet and headed down.

She wasn't wearing a jacket. Just a t-shirt and jeans, both fitting her a little too big. She was ridiculously skinny, her arms folded around her for warmth.

"Here, Kim, take my jacket." He whipped it off and forced it around her shoulders. If anyone saw, screw them. This campus had seen more bizarre sights.

"Thanks," she muttered. "Sorry to wake up this late. Or early."

"I'd be crawling out of bed in half an hour, anyway so…" He shivered. It was chilly, especially bare-skinned.

"Mm." She nodded.

This was most definitely awkward. "So… I'm glad to see you, Kim. What brings you out to Upperton?"

"I wanted to ask you a question."

Questions. He felt sick. There were a hundred questions she could ask. "And?"

She shrugged. "I'm not even really sure what to ask."

"You were always wordy, Kim. Just ask it." Please do not be about the wedding or Monique. Please do not be about the wedding or Monique. He just did not want to talk about it.

"Do you know how to get in touch with Wade?"

Not the question he had been expecting. He hadn't even thought much about Wade in years. "Kim, I already told you that I hadn't seen him since the funeral."

"Yeah, I know. But I still thought you might have a… is he still living at the same place?"

"How would I know?" Maybe a different question would have been better. "Why?" The obvious. Probably just to say hello, I'm alive.

"That's the part I really don't know how to say." Breeze whipped through her hair. She needed to have it cut. Wow, he had been hanging around the stylish words of Monique too long.

"Just say it."

"I think Wade may have set me up."

For one tiny second Ron burst out laughing, a cut thing that he quickly silenced when he saw the tears in her eyes. Not good. "Kim, are you sure you're just not still a little loopy from…" Great. Where was his tact? "That's crazy."

"I know," she whispered. "It's just that Shego found some things…"

"Why would Wade try and kill you? Or get you locked up?"

She shrugged.

Ron sighed and scratched the back of his neck. "I… I suppose I could look into this. But it sounds insane."

"My life was stolen from me, Ron." She didn't even meet his eyes, just stared at the ground as if it were the most fascinating thing to come along in some time. The caretaker barely even mowed the lawn. "Everything I cared about is gone. You. I don't even know what to think anymore. If I find whoever was responsible, Ron… I…" She shook, the tears returning with strength. "If I find them, I think I would kill them."

Kim would never kill anyone. "Kim, don't say that."

The sobs started. She fell into his bare shoulder, her tears hot against his skin. Instinctively he wrapped his arms around her. She felt so light, like a kid.

What had they done to her?

He suddenly realized that whoever "they" were, he would probably kill them, too.

She finally pushed away, sniffing. "Just… see if you can find him. I just want to ask him. He'd know. He'd help."

It was still insane. "Sure thing."

Then it happened, through no effort on his part.

She flung her arms around his neck and kissed him. It burned. It was like their first kiss all over again, the one with that whole moodulator incident.

And for one terrible moment, he kissed back without meaning to.


	12. Heart

How long had it been since she had been kissed? Since she had received a good, proper kiss? It wasn't like the security guards that had watched over her had been lustful monsters—not that she would have welcomed it. But she had not been so much as touched during those years. No real, concrete touch that said that someone truly cared about her, liked her, or even just wanted to hug her for the hell of it. And it sure was nice to be hugged for the hell of it. Kissed was even better, and this was this kiss she had been waiting for, needing, for six years.

And if it just so happened to be for the hell of it, then so be it. Wasn't that one of the greatest parts of love? Kim had her arms around Ron's neck and he was something to which she could just cling for safety. It was making up for all those years. She pressed her body against his torso, harder and harder. He kissed back, and his hands were covering her shoulders. The kiss was sweet and good, to counteract the fire.

Wasn't this the main reason she had come here? To find Ron by himself without Monique or anyone else?

His jacket was heavy on her shoulders. It was like a blanket and it smelled just like him. Maybe he would let her keep it. To remember him by. If he really loved Monique more than he did her. But somehow she did not quite believe that. He was kissing her for this one wonderful and bizarre moment.

And then it was over. The hands on her shoulders pushed her away, hard, and she stumbled back into the grass. Didn't fall. She never fell. "Ron!" A wave of fury shot up from her heart. How dare he! It wasn't like she was one of their freaking enemies! "Why?"

He stood there, barefoot, wearing nothing but blue plaid pajama pants that hung low on his waist. His chest was heaving with every breath that rushed from his mouth. The mouth she had just been touching. "Kim, I can't."

She took a step toward him. She still needed to touch him. Didn't he understand that? "Why not?"

He just kept panting.

"Ron," she demanded. "Why not?"

He shook his head. "I can't. You know that."

She shook her head as well, though she was sure for a very different reason. She hated getting mad. Before, she had never gotten very mad. Impatient, yes. Moody, maybe. She hated feeling mad. "No, Ron, I don't know that. I'm your girlfriend, remember? Your best friend. We've been that way forever."

He closed his mouth, and his chest stopped moving. He was holding his breath, he realized. "Yes, Kim, you are my best friend. You know. That is never going to change."

"But you don't want to kiss me?"

His eyes bore into her, half afraid and half fierce. Good grief, when had he become so brave? No, he had always been brave. He had always stood by her no matter what. "Yes, I want to kiss you but…" He groaned and put his hand over his face.

She giggled, realizing of course just how inappropriate it was to do so. "But what? If you want to kiss me, then do so. I'm sure Monique won't mind. I mean, she will mind, but she will understand."

"Kim, she won't understand."

Was it really such a difficult thing to grasp? Kim and Ron were soul mates. They had always been soul mates. Maybe Ron and Monique cared for each other, and Kim was perfectly willing to understand and accept that. But that did not change things between her and Ron and it never would. "Think of it as a welcome home kiss."

He did not smile. She wanted to see that goofy Ron Stoppable smile. "I think I just gave you your welcome home kiss. That one we just had. That was it."

She shook her head. "I started that kiss." She smiled. Maybe he would smile back.

He didn't. "Whatever it was, I'm sorry I gave it to you."

She stared at him. She did not believe that for a moment. "No. You are not sorry. Do not lie to me, Ron Stoppable. You enjoyed it. I felt that. You have enjoyed every kiss we have shared."

"We didn't share this kiss."

Why did he have to be so impossible? "Then what would you call it? Kiss exchange with no personal attachment?"

He made a noise in his throat that was akin to a snarl. It silenced Kim with a tremor that ran right to her heart. "I would call that an example of how messed up my life is right now! Can't you understand that?"

She gasped for breath—she hadn't realized she had stopped breathing. "I didn't... Ron, did you think about how messed up my life is? I'm supposed to be dead!"

"I know!" Ron snapped. "I know that more than anyone! We were the ones that thought you were dead, not you! You didn't know a thing about it and don't you dare to pretend to! I died as well that day, Kim!"

"Ron—"

"No! Don't you Ron me!" He was all but yelling now as he shivered in the chilly dawn. "That was the worst day of my life and the days after that were not at all better. I was lying in the hospital while they tried to yank all these damn bullets out of my shoulder and you were in the morgue while your family flipped out trying to arrange you a proper funeral that no one really wanted because we would have all preferred to have you! And you know what I was doing all that time I was lying in the hospital? I was wishing I were dead. Do you have any idea what that's like?"

Had she ever wished she were dead? She couldn't be sure.

"I didn't want to leave the hospital, Kim," he continued. "And I did not want to stay there. I just wanted to die because at least that way I would be with you." He stopped, probably for breath after that huge rant.

In a very odd way, it was probably the most romantic thing she had ever heard in her life. "Did you ever…"

"Ever what?" he demanded.

"Did you ever try to kill yourself?" She wasn't sure if she wanted to hear the answer. She had never wanted her loved ones to be miserable.

He took a deep breath and shook his head. Relief washed over her heart. "No, KP," he whispered. "I never did. I wanted to, but not enough to try because I knew that was the last thing you would have wanted."

Her eyes burned. She was crying again, now that she had a new horror story that thankfully had not come to pass. What if something like that had happened during her time in that cell? What if he had committed suicide? What if any of them had committed suicide? Just because they thought she was dead. "I'm glad you didn't. I am so glad you didn't, Ron."

"So am I." The anger was gone, most of it, anyway.

She wanted to hug him again, but she wasn't sure if he would allow that. Why was he being this way?

"KP," he said again softly. "If you… if you really had died… what would you have wanted for me?"

She shrugged. "To be happy. To do something with your life. What a question, Ron." He had better not say he was happy with Monique.

He ran his hand through his hair. "You know this whole crazy masters program?"

She nodded. "So weird."

"I did it for you. I did it because of you."

She met his eyes. "What?"

"It was after you died," he continued. "Or your clone. Or whatever. It was the worst summer ever. And I had gotten into Upperton. I had forgotten. So all the crazy reminders came and I figured, why not? We were supposed to go to college together. I didn't think you would have wanted me to forget that. So I went. It wasn't horrible. I could lose myself in all these classes and not have to think about you. Not that I didn't want to think about you, but it hurt too much. You have to understand that. So I put all my thought into schoolwork. After a while it became easier, even interesting. I didn't think I would ever be able to do something like that. But I knew that if we had gone to college together then you would have pushed me the whole way through. And I guess you did. And since you… didn't get the chance to go college, I thought I would do it for you. That's how it was at first. And then it was for me, but in a good way. I wanted to make you proud of me. That's why I'm doing this program now.

She had still done something for him. She wiped her eyes on the sleeve of his jacket. "I always knew you were smarter than you thought you were."

He gave a small laugh. "I guess you were right."

"I can't believe you did that for me. That's…" She couldn't finish.

"That's what, Kim?"

She shook her head. She had to finish without being ridiculous. "That's the best present you have ever given me."

"I'm glad you like it."

For a long time neither of them said anything. Inside the building she could hear people getting ready for the day. "What about Monique?" she finally asked. "Do you love her?"

"Yes," he said. His voice wasn't loud, but it was firm. "She is everything to me."

"Why?" Was it such an awful question to ask?

"We've always been friends," he said. "You know that."

"But now you're marrying her!" Kim pulled the jacket closer around her. "I don't understand that. How can you love her?"

Ron made a face. "I thought she was your friend! Kim, you're… you're acting like a child here."

"I am not." She could recognize her own pout. "And how dare you say that to me. You have no right to say that to me. You have no idea what I have been through."

"I would if you would just tell me." He ran up to her at this point to grab her arms. His hands felt wonderful, and she wanted to melt right there.

But she had to stay firm. "How can I tell you when you're with Monique?"

"Because I am still your best friend and I care more for you than you will ever know." His voice was now like a hiss.

Her throat tightened. She didn't know what to say. "I was in a cell under the water for six years. I had everything I needed and that was it. I couldn't escape. All I could do was wonder why I was there, where everyone else, if I was going to be rescued. I didn't know what to think. It was maddening."

He nodded slowly. "I am so sorry." Then he pulled her in for a hug. He smelled so good. Better than the jacket.

"Thanks," she replied. She wanted a kiss. A kiss was so much better. A kiss meant he loved her.

He did not release her yet. "Monique and I have always been friends. She was just as broken up about your death as I was. She loves you so much, Kim. We were always there for each other. Shoulder to cry on, that kind of deal. And then… well, one thing led to another."

"She was my replacement," she whispered.

"No," Ron said fiercely, though he still did not release the hug. "No! Can't you understand that? You may be the reason I found Monique, but you are not the reason I love her."

A little wild animal inside of her growled. She would not believe that. "But, Ron, I'm back."

"After you were dead."

That was it. She pulled away, too hurt to cry.

"Kim," he began.

She shook her head. "I'm sorry, Ron. Not now. Can't we just… can't we just worry about something else right now? Finding Wade?"

"I can do that."

"Then do the obvious and go to his parent's house. Find out something."

He nodded. "I'll go today."

She suddenly felt guilty. "What about classes?"

"I'll skip them," he said brightly. "I'd rather do this for you. I want to know who set you up just as much. Your life was not the only one that was destroyed."

She couldn't help but smile. "Thank-you, Ron."

He smiled back at her. "You're welcome."

All he gave her was a kiss on the cheek.

* * *

Ever since the guy had killed himself, Brick Flagg had not had a good morning. His head still hurt from the night before, and now he was in way over his head. And to think that not long ago this is what he would have wanted.

It was not as glamorous as the movies made it seem.

But it was a dream come true. Or a nightmare. He was finally in on the Tara Archer case. Yes, he had been reprimanded with the police force equivalent of a slap on the wrist for walking into that home, but the Chief was so happy they were getting somewhere that he had given Brick the new assignment.

If only he felt well enough to do it. How bad was a concussion? He hadn't been his most impressive in that office. The Chief blathering away about police instinct and self-reliance and all that crap while he just counted the seconds and tried to put everything together.

And detective work was supposed to be fun?

It didn't make sense. A sweet little nurse decapitated. Kim Possible's name. What was it supposed to mean?

Brick had always been slightly superstitious—not to the point of ridicule, but he believed that some things did fit together, when they were supposed to. For as he was sitting with his head down at his desk trying to make sense of everything, two things happened.

First, the phone rang. Not the desk phone, but his cell phone. His fancy cell phone whose number was only known to close friends and family. Apparently he had become more reclusive since high school. He pulled out the phone and stared at the number. He was careful to have all numbers labeled, and this one was just a nameless number he did not recognize. "Hello, Brick Flagg."

"I heard you were at the house last night." The voice was soft, female, and vague—he could not decide if he recognized it or not.

"The Archer house?" Damn. Probably not the brightest thing to say.

"Yes, the Archer house. I know you were there and I wanted to thank you for it."

He now thought this conversation could go in a variety of very different ways. "What do you mean?"

"It's just nice to know someone trustworthy is involved. I didn't think it would be you, admittedly, but still, you're good."

"Who is this?"

"No names, if you don't already know. I can't talk right now. I'll contact you later with more information. I do want to talk. It's important." There was a click, and the call was over.

Brick put his phone down. That was definitely weird. Was he supposed to know who this caller was? It was probably a prank by his little sister, for all he knew.

Except that did not feel right.

The next thing that happened was that someone appeared in the doorway, barely a minute later. Kim Possible.

For one strange moment Brick wondered if she had made the call. But that didn't fit.

"Hi," she said. She looked miserable. "I wanted to know if you wanted to go get some coffee. I haven't had coffee in years."

* * *

The Lode's home looked pretty much the same as Ron remembered, which he admitted was pretty vague. It was a nice-looking home, average as far as homes go, nothing exceptional to point that a child genius had lived there except for a few random devices one only spotted if they knew they were there.

Ron rang the doorbell, whistling to himself—out of fear. This was so weird. He hadn't been here in years. What was he supposed to do if no one answered or they had all moved away?

But the door opened, and there stood Mrs. Lode, looking pretty much the same as she always had. For a moment she stared at him suspiciously before her face burst into a smile. "Ron? Ron Stoppable, is that you?"

"Yes, ma'm, it's me." Well, this was the same.

"How are you?" She pulled him into a squeeze. "I had always wondered what had become of you after Kim's death."  
Ron considered telling her that Kim was alive, but decided that it should be Wade to hear it first.

"Y'know, Wade never really got over that. I mean, he's fine and everything, but it really shook him up. He was pretty young when it happened. Murder is hard for a kid to understand."

How old was Wade now? Ron quickly did the math in his head. Hooray for engineering skills. Eighteen or so, now? Was that right? That had been the same age as he and Kim when the horrible day had happened. "Actually, I'm here to see Wade. Is he here?"

Mrs. Lode shook her head. "No. You missed him by three weeks."

"Huh?"

"Well, he turned legal and decided that he and some of his friends wanted to get an apartment together, closer to the tech school. They're all good kids, just geeks, so I figured it would be all right. He really seems to be enjoying it."

So far, so good. Wade was still around. "Can I get the address?"

When Mrs. Lode had mentioned an apartment, Ron had pictured the typical college mess young kids usually bought when they moved out. Apparently having the ability to build technology meant serious moolah. The apartment complex was the nicest in Middleton, with a doorman and everything. Probably inhabited by a bunch of rich snobs who hated a bunch of teenage geeks messing around. With his wrinkled clothes, Ron felt horribly out of place. But he went up the elevator that smelled like roses and into the perfectly vacuumed hall of Wade's floor.

And then to the apartment.

This would probably be nice. Ron had always liked Wade, and it was sad they hadn't spoken in so long. A nice little reunion… he tried to push the phrase "set up" from his head. He rang the bell, and within seconds the door had been opened by a redheaded kid in an oversized lab coat. Geniuses. They always had to have a look. "Hi," the kid said. "Who are you looking for?"

Ron looked past the kid's shoulder into the apartment. It was covered in posters from rock concerts, fantasy and sci-fi movies, and video games. Very cool. "Wade Lode. Is her here?"

"Yeah. Just a second. Wade!"

"What?"

"Door!"

And then Wade appeared, wearing shop glasses and wielding a blow torch. In this ritzy apartment building. For a moment Ron didn't recognize him. The chubby little kid was gone, replaced by a lanky teenage giant at least two inches taller than Ron. But the expression on the more adult face was the same as Wade pulled off the glasses. "Ron?"

"Hi, Wade."

And that was when Wade slammed the door.

For a moment Ron stood in the hall, unsure what to do. Not quite the welcome he had expected. But before he knocked again, the door was again open.

"Sorry," Wade muttered. His voice was definitely deeper. "I had to get rid of Alex. Sent him back to the lab. He's the only one here right now. There's five of us, I'm glad I didn't have to get rid of them."

"Roommates. Fun."

"Yeah," Wade said with a shrug. "What are you doing here?" He didn't sound exactly thrilled.

"I thought I'd drop by and check up on my old buddy. You've grown up."

"But I haven't seen you since…"

"I know. That's why I'm here."

Wade's eyes widened. "Ron, I really, really would prefer not to talk about Kim."

"Wade, it's just…"

"No!" His voice ricocheted off the walls. He took a deep breath and said softly "No. Kim's dead."

Not the reaction he had been expecting. His mom had been right. He had been shook up.

"And I don't want to talk about it," Wade continued.

Ron sighed and rubbed his forehead. It didn't seem so hard to just say it. "Well, that's the real reason I'm here. She's not dead. She's alive."

He expected the kid to jump for joy. Or at least smile.

Wade just looked horrified.

* * *

_Bwahaha! So Wade has returned and Brick finally gets his case! But who is this mysterious caller? _


	13. Revelations

So Ron decided to repeat the message. Clearly something had been lost in the translation because he could not think of a single lousy reason why anyone would balk at the concept that Kimberly Anne Possible was in fact and miraculously alive. Aside from his own person issue, of course, but that was indeed personal and he was sadly the only person on the face of the planet who had to deal with it. But Wade… true, they hadn't kept in touch, but he had always liked Kim. He had practically been traumatized by her supposed death. This was supposed to be good news! Happy news! "Wade, hello? She's alive. Kim. Kim Possible. You remember her, I hope." Hopefully he had not been so traumatized he had blocked out every memory of Kim. That would just be eerie. Especially since he had just mentioned her.

Wade slowly nodded, though the terror did not leave his face. It was a strange expression, made more so by the fact that Ron hadn't seem him in six years. It was horror, surprise, and something else that Ron could not quite place. "Yes," Wade finally said in a voice barely audible. "I heard you the first time."

An awkward silence ensued. Ron hated awkward silences. Hadn't he all but jumped for joy? What was the kid's problem? It was Kim. Kim Possible. She was alive and the entire world was supposed to be celebrating. Why wasn't Wade?

"Okay, so you heard me," Ron continued slowly. A child genius now a teenager. He was not quite sure with who he was dealing. He was in engineering, not psychology. "But did you comprehend?"

Wade nodded again. Now he just looked sick, but at least he was managing a smile. But it was directed at the blow torch, which he fingered before setting down. "Yes. Kim is alive. She's not dead. That's… wonderful."

Oddly enough, he sounded sincere, if sincerity could incorporate both words defined as cheerful and the chords of misery. Ron was not sure whether to smile and accept the words as words or bash Wade over the head. "You don't sound like it's wonderful."

"I'm happy." The smile was not sticking. "Trust me, Ron, I couldn't be happier. Really. I promise."

"You still don't look it."

"Sorry. I don't know if I can smile right now. But it's wonderful. I'm so happy she's alive. In fact, if I found out this was some kind of sick prank, I would probably kill you right now. I still make weapons in my spare time."

Well, it sort of sounded like the old Wade.

Wade forced a rather sheepish smile. "I guess it's still kind of a shock for me. You just told me. Could you… could you just give me a minute to let it sink in? I promise. I'm thrilled. This is the best news I've had all day."

Ron was not so sure. He could not see a single glimmer of joy whatsoever in Wade's expression. "Wade, is something wrong?"

Wade shook his head.

"Are you sure?" Or maybe Ron was just paranoid. It was a little uncomfortable to stand there in the doorway.

"Everything's fine." He did not sound fine. He bit his lip. His eyes refused to meet Ron's.

No, Ron was not a psychology major, but he had developed some abilities of people-reading. "Wade, are you sure you're okay?"

Wade once more shook his head—in conjunction with an unwilling "Maybe you should come in."

Ron followed him into the apartment. Despite his uncharacteristic intuition that something was wrong, he could not help but feel comfortable in the apartment. It looked like it belonged to college kids… or college-aged, or whatever. Posters, fast food garbage, odd scientific tools that Ron would never recognize if his life depended on it. A video game console was hooked up to the television. No, four different consoles were. The couch was tragically ratty, but cozy in appearance. Along with that was a rag-tag assortment of beanbags and kitchen stools. Sweet.

"It's kind of a mess in here," Wade said apologetically, gesturing broadly at the furniture. "We really don't…"

"Wade, it's fine." Ron plopped into a yellow beanbag chair and sighed. "So. I guess you want to talk? About this? Just plain catch up?"

"Um…"

"Ah, yeah. You probably want to hear the details on Kim. It's kind of a…" He took a deep breath. Wow, he was so not prepared for this after all. He had not yet really repeated it to anyone. "It's kind of a interesting story. Really interesting."

"Yeah." It was an agreement. Not a hint of a question.

Ron raised an eyebrow. "Yeah?"

Wade had not yet taken a seat. He stood by the television, clutching one dangling arm to his side. He still was not making eye contact. "Yeah. I mean… just tell me what happened."

Something was horribly wrong here. Ron was not dense enough to ignore that fact. But he could not figure out anything beyond general foreboding. "We all thought… we all thought Kim was murdered back then."

Wade gave a faint nod.

"Well, it wasn't her."

Wade's head jerked up.

"It was a clone. Yeah, really weird. But… but I know this is her now. She had been captured while they shot up the clone. So we all thought she was dead. I guess so no one go looking after her." He felt a momentary twinge of guilt over why he could not have figured out the difference and come after her. "His name was Garrison Wiles. He was a money launderer we caught before. I don't know if you remember."

Wade shook his head. "Not that name."

"Anyway, Shego freed her. And she's out. She's back. I figured you might want to know. That's why I came by." Part of the reason. It had to be paranoia, after all that Kim had told him.

"That's good." Wade was still making no effort to speak loudly.

Ron closed his eyes. This could be so many things, this awful feeling he had. Indigestion. Physical results of all these crazy emotions. Kim's worry about Wade… He opened his eyes and stared so hard at Wade that the kid was forced to make eye contact. "Wade, do you already know something about this?"

It was deer-in-the-headlights, plain and simple. Wade stumbled back into a kitchen stool. "Ron, what are you saying? Are you accusing me of something?"  
"I don't know. Am I?" Ron stood up from the beanbag chair. He was not sure what he was about to do; he was speaking one word at a time, thinking one thought at a time, and most of those thoughts were copies of the same one, that this was pure insanity. "Did you do anything that requires an accusation?"

Wade looked like he was going to be very, very sick.

"What's the matter?" Ron heard his voice demand via near-scream. That Alex kid was probably going to hear everything and run in to save his roommate. Well, if need be, Ron would kill him to if that's what it came down to. "What happened?"

"It was an accident!" Wade shouted back.

Immediately Ron's mind went blank. For a long time he could not speak. "What?"

Wade was breathing hard now, practically hyperventilating. His arms were crossed tightly over his chest. "It was an accident." His voice was not much more than a whisper, but at least he was finally audible. "It was not supposed to happen the way it did. I was going to warn her, and then everything went wrong."

"What did you do? She told me that she's worried you set her up."

He did not deny it. He was once more staring at the floor. "I didn't mean to."

A chill ran down Ron's spine. "So you did it? You set her up?" He almost fell back into the beanbag chair. "I can't believe I'm having this conversation." His hands clenched themselves into fists. Keep listening, he told himself. Keep listening. This is for Kim.

If it was indeed for Kim he should kill Wade right then and there.

"I'm so sorry," Wade whispered. "I am so, so sorry, and I know you probably don't believe me, but I am. I've had to live with it every freaking day."

Ron's body was torn between revenge and the urge to collapse. "What did you do?"

"I lied. I knew who Garrison Wiles was. I remember him just fine. I saw this ad on the web—"

"Garrison Wiles put out the want ad for Kim?"

"No. It was someone else. Darren Sharp. He was looking for Kim. He's the one that was offering a money reward for her."

"You sold her out for money?"

"No!" No more whisper. "I gave nothing to Darren Sharp. Darren Sharp thinks she's dead, just like everyone else It was Wiles. And Drakken. I just…" Wade took a deep breath. "I just gave her position."

Ron's body made a decision. In a flash he was at Wade, fist crushing against his nose. Warm blood sprayed everywhere.

"Ron!"

But Ron could not listen. He threw his fist again. He had never really wanted to kill anyone before. Except for Kim's killer. This was close enough. Wade. Who had just been a little kid the last time Ron had seen him. It was impossible, but it was real and it was the worst kind of betrayal Ron had ever experienced.

Before he could throw a third punch, something buzzing flooded through his body. The last thing he saw before he blacked out was Wade's furious, blood-soaked glaring down at him.

* * *

"You weren't supposed to be involved with the Archer case," the chief said. Sternly. Oh, yes. Brick knew the meaning of the word stern. "You don't have the experience or the ranking for this kind of murder profile."

"Yes sir," Brick said demurely. "I understand." Hell, he understood. He was probably going to be put on probation, at the very least, for this mess.

"I'm not sure why you haven't been punished already."

"I'm the one who caught the bastard breaking in," Brick muttered under his breath.

The chief froze in his slow pacing circle around Brick. "What was that, Flagg?"

Better judgment told him to deny everything, but then again Brick had never been one for better judgment. "I just said that the bastard, who was clearly involved in this case, broke in and I'm the one that caught him."

The chief remained frozen.

Bad move, Brick thought. He really needed to learn to keep his mouth shut at crucial moments like these.

"True," the chief finally said. "I'll grant you that. It was damn lucky you were there, and excuse me for being the old fashioned sort that lets the ends justify the means."

Was this going to be good or bad? It was impossible to tell with upper division.

The chief turned face-on to Brick. "That does not change the fact that we now have some dead kid down at the morgue. A kid that decided to commit suicide because you questioned him."

"I didn't torture him or anything, if that's what you mean."

"No, that's not what I mean. Don't be an ass. It means that he was seriously involved in this case and that's way too much for you to handle, Flagg. Do you understand? It means that this case is much more interesting than we thought. And it's hard to get much more interesting that decapitation."

Brick sighed. "She was a real person, sir."

"Yeah. Whatever." He resumed his pacing. "It's still very, very interesting. It's probably the best lead we've had on this case. Or it would be if the kid had remained alive."  
Now Brick was just getting bored. "My punishment, sir?"

"I told you my policy. However, other people would rather see you thrown off the force."

Brick gulped.

"However, you were working in conjecture with Kim Possible, bless her undead heart. That will be taken into consideration. There's also the fact that we have had a request to bring you onto this case."

"What? From who?"

"I am not at liberty to give that information, but mostly it's because it has absolutely nothing to do with you. Besides the fact that you were requested. But it's none of your damn business. You're involved, you're on it, congratulations, son. But don't let it go to your head."

Brick almost saluted. But that would have just meant trouble. "Yes, sir. Thank-you sir." Inside he was jumping for joy. It was almost like making a touchdown. Except better. Wow, he was growing up.

"You will be working with Kim Possible," the chief continued. "Apparently she is somehow connected to all of this."

The note. The old cheerleading pictures. Brick nodded. "Yes, sir."

"That will be all, Flagg."

Brick left the office in a flurry of emotions. Which was odd. He had always prided himself on being fairly manly and not being subject to emotions. It had been confusing enough in that department when Kim had popped back up from the supposed dead. Now that was a case on which people should be working. Kim's murder case had not yet gone cold, had it?

Kim's murder. Tara's murder. Brick made his way to his desk, successfully ignoring the whispers wondering if he had been canned or not. Two murder questions jumping out so close together. Except for the span of several years, of course, but Kim's reappearance… In high school he had not been known for thinking, but that did not mean he was dumb. The murders, or the murder and the supposed murder… they had to be connected.

Or maybe that was just wishful thinking and pride going to his head. Calm down, he told himself. Think.

But he was thinking. The note about Kim Possible. Old cheer squad photographs. It was evidence, sort of. Maybe not hard evidence. But it sure as hell was suspicious. Maybe he was just having a hunch. Wow. His first hunch as a sort-of detective—he highly doubted he had been officially promoted.

He was getting pretty darn sure that Tara had known Kim was alive.

But how?

Kim was already waiting at his desk. Still waiting for coffee. He put on his best smile and said hello. "I guess we're officially working together now on Tara's murder. Did you put in a good word for me?"

She looked glum. She was leaning back in his chair, staring at nothing. "I haven't put in a good word for anyone. In fact, Brick, I really don't care about Tara anymore. I know that sounds absolutely heartless of me, but I don't. I just… can't. I'm selfish and I care more about my own murder right now."

He nodded. "I guess I can't really blame you."

"Thanks." She sighed. "My life is completely ruined. Ruined."

"I can understand that." Good job. Way to be empathetic.

"I know I should help you with Tara. I know I should. But I can't. I have so much on my plate right now."

"Hang on." Brick put his hand on her shoulder. It felt a little weird, but so be it. "I thought you desperately needed this case or something."

She shrugged. "I thought I did. But I really don't feel like Kim Possible anymore. I don't think I can help anyone until I'm her again. I want my life back. Like it was before."

"Is this about Stoppable and Monique?"

She nodded, then blushed. "And everything. Everything is so wrong. And I feel like it shouldn't be this way. I'm free. I should be happy. But instead I feel like I'm in an even worse prison."

Wow. He had absolutely no idea how to respond to that. "I'm… I'm sorry."

"Thanks for listening." She stood up. "Sorry to steal your desk and sorry to back out on you. Good luck with that. Now take me to get some coffee."

"What are you going to do?"

She shrugged again. For a very strange moment Brick was reminded of Daniel Sprague. "I think I'll kill the people that did this to me."

He wasn't sure if she were kidding. He wasn't sure he blamed her.

They went to a little coffee shop that had sprung out of nowhere a few months before. Little shops trying to be hip and low-key, however all that fit together. They took their orders and sat at a table in the corner. They were silent. There did not seem to be a whole lot to say to each other after Kim's little spill back at the station.

"This is good coffee," Kim finally said. "I haven't had coffee in years."

"So you said earlier," he replied. His head was still spinning. "It's helping with my headache. Sort of."

She forced a tiny laugh. "Last night. It seems so long ago."

"You should probably get some sleep, Kim."

"I don't want sleep. I've had enough. I'll get more when I need it." She sighed. "I don't know why I have this need to spill everything to you, Brick. It's not like we ever dated."

"Except for that one rumor."

"Oh, yeah." Her laugh sounded more authentic this time. Maybe she was coming around. "The only guy I ever really dated was Ron and… I'm sorry. This is probably the sort of stuff I should be sharing with girlfriends. If I had any."

"I don't mind. Talk away." He really didn't. He liked to think of himself as fairly laid-back. "We should have done this earlier, if I hadn't been called away."

"You're fine. I just… I just really miss Ron."

"So he's still going to marry Monique?"

She nodded. She seemed too weak to cry. Good. Brick hated tears. "Apparently. Apparently he loves her more than me."

"Come on. He doesn't hate you. Ron's a good guy."

"He's the best." Still no tears. "He's wonderful. And Monique's wonderful, too. I love them both. I just don't understand why they have to love each other."

"Well…." He hated to state the obvious. "You were dead."

"Death shouldn't stop true love."

"It doesn't. It just changes it."

She stared at him. "Wow. Poetic."

"Was that sarcasm?"

"I'm not sure." She sighed and took another sip of coffee. "Mm. This is good. I really miss him, Brick. It's like… it's like it was almost better back there because then I at least had hope. I could at least hope he was waiting for me, trying to find me."

"I think he did everything he could. Remember, you were dead." He probably should stop saying that before she exploded at him.

"That is what is making everything so confusing. What should I do?"

It was his turn to shrug. "I'm sorry. I haven't had a serious girlfriend since college. I don't know these things. Come on. You were the one who just threatened to kill people."

She glared at him. "I'm not going to kill Ron. I would never kill Ron."

Okay, bad thing to say. "I was only joking."

"It wasn't very funny."

Just then, his phone rang. The number from before. He must have looked surprised, judging from the way Kim was looking at him. "I have to take this," he said. He picked it up tentatively, wondering if the phone would somehow bite him. "Hello?"

"Me again!" It was the female voice from earlier. "I didn't want you to wait long. Are you ready to talk?"

In a coffee shop over a cell phone? "Where?"

"Behind the old park. I'll find you. Come alone, unless Kim wants to come."

"Kim?" he echoed.

Kim was now definitely watching.

"Word's getting around. I promise, she will be as safe as you and I can make her. Come quick." The call ended.

"Who was that?" Kim asked.

"No idea," he replied. "No idea. But she knows about you. She… invited you to come. I'm meeting her."

She did not say anything. But she did look tempted.

"If you still want to work with me. It also involves you."

She nodded. Good. There was still some Kim Possible in there yet. Or at least a vigilante. "Okay."

* * *

Professor Jackson Sharp sat at his computer, looking over project reports, email, and all at once. He had a skill for multitasking. It was also a good mental distraction. He wasn't sure what, but something was wrong.

Finally, one email caught his eye. From Wade.

"Of course I didn't give the codes for the bunker. Trust me."

Jackson still did not know all the details. Who had asked Wade for the codes?

* * *

It had been months since Brick had been to the old Middleton Park. A wind had picked up, and it was clear that rain was in the air. A few old people were walking their dogs, but otherwise the park was empty. He and Kim silently walked through heading toward where the park melted into the woods.

Someone stood there. A woman in a blue hood.

"You called?" Brick asked as he approached her.

"Yes."

Kim gasped before the woman even took off her hood.

* * *

It was so easy to find addresses in this city. Lowerton, Middleton, and Upperton all desperately needed better security. Everywhere.

Shego stared up at the apartment building, smiling even though her heart had once again tumbled into a million little pieces. Nice place. Not as nice as hers, of course. No where near.

That little brat was going to pay for lying to her. Pay with his life.


	14. Resurrection

_I was looking over my stories. I found this one and reread it. I spent some time putting pieces back together (all the notes for the mystery where on my old computer that gave up the ghost). I'm going to continue it. I'm not apologizing for any delays, so I don't want to hear any complaints about "two years, you freak! Two years!"_

_Lots of love to everyone!_

_

* * *

  
_

The blue hood hung at the woman's shoulders, and pale blonde hair tumbled past it. The woman was in her early twenties, strikingly beautiful despite telltale dark circles under her eyes.

No matter. Tara Archer looked good. Especially for having been decapitated.

She tumbled into Kim's arms, crying.

Kim was crying, too. She had done nothing of that for days. When would it stop? But it was not crying over own life, but Tara's. Here was Tara, very much alive. "Tara," she said. "What in the world?"

"I had to, Kim," she replied, releasing Kim. "I had to. Brick, Officer Flagg, I had to."

"Fake your own death?" Brick stammered from behind him. "That was one hell of a fake!"

"A clone," Kim said. "It was a clone. Of course it was."

"I borrowed the idea from you." Tara wiped the tears from her eyes. "I hope you don't mind."

"I don't understand."

"Neither do I," said Brick. He knelt on the ground, seemingly starved for air. "Tara, you have a death certificate. The entire force is revolving around your murder."

Tara gave a bell-like laugh. "I didn't think I'd create so much of a stir."

"Well, you did. Damn it, what is going on? Who else is not dead?" Brick seemed almost upset. "Tara, wow. I'm sorry. I'm really, truly glad you're not dead. But… what? Another clone?"

"My friend Trudy up at the hospital. I'm dating her brother. He's a scientist in this lab. He specializes in—"

"Cloning," Brick finished. "I can't believe it. So… he knew?"

Tara nodded. "He and Trudy both knew. They swore they wouldn't say a thing. We had to do something. I guess I'm just too much of a coward to cut town."

"So you went for cloning." Kim smiled wanly. "Wow, Tara. I have to hand it to you. What else has changed since high school?"

"I didn't do the cloning. Grant did. My boyfriend. I just… gave him the idea."

"From me?" Kim's frown returned. "The photos you left out…"

Tara nodded. "It… it was a few weeks ago. I was in the E.R. This older man came in. Fractured wrist. Nothing huge, but he was under a lot of pain killer. He… he said some things. " She took a deep breath. "Kim, you were shot to death in Idaho six years ago. Everyone knew that. And then this man found out that was not true. This man who came in to the E.R. for me to treat him. His name was Darren Sharp."

Kim's blood turned to ice. "Darren Sharp?"

"Yes. Does that name mean anything to you?"

Kim nodded. "Yes."

"Kim, I'm so sorry."

"Keep going," Brick said softly. They could barely see anymore with the setting sun.

"Yes, of course." Tara closed her eyes. "His name was Darren Sharp. Just this nice old man, I thought. He said you were being held by a man named Garrison Wiles. Oh, but Darren Sharp seemed to hate this man. He didn't talk about why, he just said he hated him. Called him a cheat, a thief, everything. But the important thing was that he said you, Kim, were alive. I… I didn't know what to do with that. At first, I tried to just pass it off that he was rambling from the meds. But then…" Her hands went to her eyes as fresh tears came. "Three days later he sent me a letter that he was going to kill me."

"Why didn't you go to the police?" Brick asked.

"And what? Tell them local heroine Kim Possible was alive and somebody knew where and that now that man was trying to kill me? Brick, I wanted to go to the police. I even picked up the phone right after I read the letter. But… but what if I were wrong? What if the man were simply crazy? Kim, I did not want to upset your family all over again. They went through so much pain."

"So you cloned yourself?" Kim asked. "That was your response?"

"I paused from calling the police long enough to get another call. I don't even know who it was. Still don't. Male. That's all. He told me what to do. He sent me a key. I'm living a few cities away right now. Totally secretive."

Kim took a deep breath. "Well… this is good news. I guess. As good as news can get right now. Darren Sharp knew I was alive. He… he put out an ad out for my capture six years ago. That's what happened."

"I'm so sorry." Tara turned to Brick. "Well, I'm calling the police now. You found out Kim was back in town first, I think. You're the only on that force I actually know. Brick, now that Kim is "back from the dead" she's going to be in a lot of trouble. And… and Darren said something else while he was under. He's building something. And I took something out of his personal belongings after he said all that stuff about Kim. I'm not sure what it is." She pulled from the pocket of her coat a plastic Zip-lock baggie. In the dim light Kim could barely make a flat metallic form. "It's a computer chip or something."

"You stole that?" Brick demanded.

Tara nodded, almost defiantly. One thing was for certain. This was not the same Tara from before. "I stole it. Somebody wants it back."

* * *

Jackson Sharp sighed and listened to the phone ring for the tenth time. For a teenager, Wade Lode was certainly difficult to get a hold of. Why did he bother with teenagers? Is this not why he chose to teach only master students? The answering machine went on. "Hey, this is Wade and by some miracle I'm not with my phone. Leave a message."

Again. "Wade, it's me. Call me back." Jackson sat down at his desk and let his forehead drop against the hard wood. He was tired, deathly tired. His office was messy and cold and dismal. When had this necessity of academia turned into such a prison?

He took a deep breath and lifted his eyes. Blueprints. A design of Ron Stopabble's. His most promising student, believe it or not. Could be quite the idiot sometimes, but he certainly had the brains and the creativity to design some fairly ingenious creations.

In fact… Jackson picked one of them up. A robotics plan, standard enough. Except… except the boy had some good ideas here…

The ring of his phone jolted him from his thoughts. He stared at in confusion as the phone buzzed about on the desktop blinking "Wade Lode". He picked it up. "Hello?"

"Dr. Sharp?" The kid sounded terrified.

"Wade? Are you all right?"

"Um, yeah. I… I saw that you called so I called you back and… Dr. Sharp, I really need to talk to you."

"So do I. You tell me you're giving fake codes to someone. Who? Who is asking for these codes?"

"Some villain lady. Shego. I don't know if you've ever heard of her. Dr. Sharp, I just did something stupid."

Shego. Well, of course. How could he have been so stupid? The briefest smile came over his face. "Why did she want the codes to the bunker?"

"I don't know. She thought her kid was there for some reason. Dr. Sharpe—"

"Did you tell her that?"

"Dr. Sharp, I think I may have just killed someone."

* * *

Monique tried Ron's cell. Twenty times now. He wasn't responding. Why wouldn't he call her? What was wrong? She curled up on the couch, trying to keep the tears back. She couldn't cry. She had tests to correct and a wedding to plan—if there still were to be a wedding. Her fiancé was just… she didn't know. Being Ron.

What if he were out with Kim?

That released the tears. She was a horrible person. She was going to hell. But she did not want Ron out with Kim.

* * *

Ron's body felt like it had just been struck by lightening. Probably by something close enough. It hurt just to attempt to raise his eyelids. His eyes wet with darkness swirled with patches of red and yellow light. He reclosed them, groaning. Even his fingertips tingled. "Monique," he murmured.

Upon a second attempt at opening his eyes he saw brighter light. And shapes. Movie posters, stuff like that. Where was he? Wade's apartment. That was right. Stupid, stupid Wade. Practically admitted to trying to kill Kim and then electrocuted him.

He was on the floor. Drops of blood had stained the carpet. His blood? No, no, he had punched Wade. It had been a good punch. It had felt so wonderful. Wade had deserved it.

Ron tried to sit up, then realized the source of the tingling fingers. His hands were tied together. Same with his ankles. Wade had certainly paid attention in Boy Scouts.

But where was Wade? Ron was the only one in the room. No weird roommate, no Wade. Ron strained at the knots. He should have brought Rufus. But no, he had left Rufus to do homework.

Well, this was handy. Graduate student and former hero sidekick and he was lying like a sack of potatoes in some genius teenager's apartment. If three days ago he had imagined—

The familiar zap of a beam sent him screaming. Something green burst through the door, burning it. A woman stepped through and stared at him. "Stoppable?"

"Shego?" Ron repeated. Yes, it was Shego. Just as Kim had said.


	15. Truth and Lies

_I feel guilty now. Thanks so much for everyone popping up and reading! It means a lot._

_Okay, I feel there is a lot of exposition in here, but I tried to get in some informational tidbits. I especially hope you like how I close this chapter._

* * *

"Well, well, well." Shego's voice was soft and ponderous. Her booted feet made no sound as she tread abound Ron. "Stoppable. Ron Stoppable. Haven't heard from you in awhile. What have you been up to lately? Carrying on with the same crowd? What's left of it? I heard about Kimmie. Sad day. But I like to think I had a hand in improving the situation."

Ron sucked in a much-needed breath. Why it was much-needed, he didn't know, but that apartment was lacking in air sufficiency, it seemed. Shego. What other blast from the past did he need at this time? "Kim says you got her out. You helped her."

She shrugged. "I'm not a thoroughly evil person. Besides, I needed her. And that's the reason I'm here."

"Here?"

"Your computer kid. Wade. He wrecked my shortcut. Where is he?" She reached into her coat pocket and with a toss of her black hair and a deft sweep of her arm slashed apart the binding ropes with a knife Ron barely had the time to spot. "And you can't say you don't owe me a thing because if I did nothing but practically bringing your old girlfriend back to life I at least untied you. Look you had quite the fun at this particular visit."

Ron flexed his wrists and with some stumbling climbed to his feet. How long had he been out?

"And don't play cute with me, Stoppable." She smiled grimly.

She still was cute. Where the hell did that thought pop from. "I have no idea. I think he just tried to kill me."

Shego closed her eyes and sighed. "And yet somehow I am not surprised. Move." With a blast of green Ron was thrown against the wall as Shego marched to a door. "Wade!" she screeched. "I know you're in there!"

And to Ron's surprise the door opened revealing Wade clutching a phone in one hand and that pack-a-punch device of earlier pain in the other. Moron wasn't supposed to walk up to a door Shego was at. Yet Wade looked distinctively and unmistakably shaken. He certainly deserved it. Ron fought a sudden urge to leap forward go for another attack. Why not? Shego was providing enough fearsome clout.

But therein lay the problem. At that moment Ron did not exist and Wade's full attention was on Shego.

"Shego," he finally said. "Good to see you. It's been years."

"In person, maybe." Shego's voice was deathly soft. "You lied to me."

Wade's grin was slow, but wicked. "I guess I did." He gripped the device all the tighter.

"Are your roommates home?" she asked. Same death voice.

Wade hesitated.

"The truth, boy."

"They all left about ten minutes ago."

"Good. I'm trying to get past the innocent victim thing. It's sloppy and unprofessional. Where is Darren?"

"I don't know. "

"You were supposed to be the great tracker. Or whatever it is you computer geeks do. You told me you knew. What happened? Fell out of companionship over the years?"

"Face it, Shego. I lied to you." Wade's voice only barely shook. "I don't know anything about Darren. I refuse to have anything to do with him."

"Unless it's to bother him." Shego stepped closer. "Yeah, I put two and two together."

Ron began to wonder if he should be attempting to do something. But he could only watch in fascination. It was a student thing he had tragically picked up in the past few years. Watch. Listen.

"You told me I'd find Darren there!" She screamed the phrase as Wade just avoided her glowing green blast. The little device skidded across the floor. "And I had to lie to Kim Possible! I was so close! Kim Possible is the one thing Darren wanted. And he's impossible to find. You will pay."

Whatever Wade liked to use for torture had landed at Ron's feet. It was not as if Wade deserved it or anything but.. there was some sort of loyalty. And Shego had just admitted to lying to Kim Possible. Yet despite his years of training, he had absolutely no idea what the weapon was supposed to do. So he did what he was best at: chuck it randomly and hope for the best.

It was heavy enough to send Shego unconscious when it collided with her head.

Wade picked it up as it bounced. "Geeze, Ron, I thought I killed you."

"Like you'd care."

"I told you, I didn't mean any harm."

"Did you ever test that thing?" Ron did not even want to look at Wade. "Seriously, it hurts."

"Never tested until you." Wade flipped it over in his hand. "Look, the thing with Kim… it was a huge mistake. I was twelve. I wasn't thinking clearly. I thought she'd handle it just fine."

"And you expect me to believe that?"

He shrugged. "It's the truth. I don't know what else to say."

Ron sniffed. He really did not want to hear anything Wade had to say. "You could say what the hell else is going on." He nodded at Shego's unconscious form.

"The other day she emailed me out of the blue. She wanted to know where Darren Sharp was. She had something to give him. I didn't think it would be Kim."

"Again, like you'd care."

"So… I lied. The thing is she thought she knew where she was. I just told her how to get inside. With incorrect information."

"You couldn't just help her out?" Ron bit his tongue at the end of that; he had just heard Shego threatening to sell off Kim.

"It's a favor to a friend. I'm not going to betray anyone else."

Ron's frown deepened. Wade was hiding something. But he suddenly found himself not caring. "I can't believe this. Kim was your friend."

"I know. I'm sorry. I haven't exactly mastered the time machine yet. My apologies." The sarcasm was deep.

"I'm out of here. Don't try to leave town."

* * *

Exactly seven minutes after Ron left, Jackson Sharp showed up at the apartment, wondering just what he was supposed to do with a colleague who murdered. An eighteen year-old colleague at that.

He screamed when he entered the apartment.

Wade sat on a stool, staring at the black-haired woman. He barely glanced up at Jackson entered. "Sorry I didn't call you back. I overreacted. No one is dead."

Jackson could only stare at the woman. It was impossible. And yet… of course. Why had he not thought of it before?

"You tried to kill her?"

Wade did not seem interested in conversation. "No. That was someone else. She just tried to kill me. My past is catching up with me. It really sucks."

"She tried to kill you."

"She's the one I gave the fake codes to."

Jackson closed his eyes. His heart was racing. "Why?"

"She was trying to pull off some sort of ransom. Something about a kid. She thought the kidnapper was in that building."

Jackson was silent a long time. "Mean trick. I applaud you."

"Thanks."

"Let her go."

For the first time Wade seemed to show energy. "What?"

Jackson had already turned to the door. "You heard me. Let her go."

* * *

"What is it exactly?" Kim pushed Brick aside in order to press her face closer to the chip.

"Obviously one of those computer things that permeate our society," replied Brick.

"Ooh, fancy words from you. I mean, what does it do? Our dead friend was tragically clueless. But if someone is willing to kill for it, it's important. Of course, that should be fairly obvious by now."

Brick scratched his ear. It was late, ridiculously late. He and Kim were the only ones in the entire station—perks of working with Kim Possible. Tara had long ago departed, wisely leaving the chip in their hands. Wise for Tara, bad for he and Kim, if this thing really did attract death. "So what do we do? Stand around and wait to be attacked and then question them before they kill us?"

Kim put her face in her hands and sighed. "Brick, I don't know! I haven't done this thing in a really long time! Let me think. All we know is that Tara did something incredibly stupid by stealing that off of a patient." She shook her head. "Wow. I still can't believe she's alive."

Neither could Brick. But after having repeatedly exclaim Kim's reappearance he did not feel like saying anything more. Though he did have to wonder which was more fascinating, Kim or Tara? Both had gone through pretty horrible fake deaths. And now both seemed so different than the teenager girls he had known. "I think we should call it a night. I've written down everything I could without exposing Tara. She's now known as an anonymous tip."

Kim smiled. "Way to respect her privacy. Nice."

Brick stared at the notes he had just written down. Anonymous tip and microchip. Before he knew what he was doing, he had picked them up and tore them.

"Brick!"

He shook his head. He must be insane. "I don't want to make any reports until we know just what is going on. We were supposed to investigate Tara's murder. She was never murdered. This is not on the record."

"Wow," said Kim.

"What?"

"Nothing. Just wow." She sighed. "Well, I'll be wild now. I'll take the chip."

Brick stared down at the chip. Tara had been supposedly killed over that. Kim had just returned from the dead. "Are you sure? What if they come after you?"

"According to Tara, this Sharp guy already knew I was alive. Doesn't matter. Thanks for the coffee, Brick."

Brick watched her as she disappeared through the door.

* * *

The night was cold. Kim found herself desperately wishing for a jacket. She had used to care so much about fashion. When had that changed?

The walk home took forever. She expected her family to up and waiting for her. That very thought warmed her plenty. What was she thinking, joining a case so early? Was work to be her Ron rebound? That wasn't fair to anyone.

But Ron was there like a ghost, standing on her lawn.

She stared at him. She did not want to speak to him. He had broken her heart. At least he did not have the nerve to wait inside.

"Kim!" he called.

She wanted to pretend she didn't see him. Curse this narrow lawn.

"KP!" he called, louder.

"Go away, Ron." The worst thing about coming back to life.

"I know who called Garrison."

She froze.

* * *

"Did it go well?" Grant asked. He was a man who enjoyed the life of a scientist. He certainly did not yet rank himself up there with all the great villains; in fact, he did not yet consider himself a villain. With today's love of justice, full villainy just wasn't the way to go. Too messy, such bad press.

Much better to be out for hire.

Tara nodded and sat down in the chair next to him. "Very well, sir. They believed me. "

"Who has the chip now?"

Tara shrugged. "Either. I imagine they took it to the station. Evidence. Has the real one been found yet?"

Grant shook his head. The greatest disappointment. "Darren is not happy about that."

"I'm sorry, sir." She whirled around in the swivel chair.

"Is something bothering you, Tara?"

She shrugged. "I just feel weird being used to imitate a dead girl. At least one in hiding. I don't understand why I just can't marvelously spring back to life."

"Your head was cut off. Darren's boys were sloppy in that regard."

"But the clone story worked for Flagg and Possible."

Grant laughed. "Tara, Tara, Tara. Possible's clone story just came out. We can't have two in a week."

"But I am a clone. A very good clone, too." She happily studied her arms and nails.

"If you're so good, and you are because I made you, you should go back into the house and look around for that chip."

Grant received a dark glare in return. He had made one clever clone this time.

"Sir," she said. "I don't think it would look good for me to be caught in a crime scene. The one where I died."

Grant sighed. "True, true."


	16. Jackson Sharp

"I'm going to kill Wade!" Kim's arms flailed even in Ron's tight grasp. "I'm going to kill him!"

She was still strong. She had always been strong, of that Ron was perfectly aware. But this strength was unbelievable. Lithe body giving way to an animal fury. A caged animal, Ron thought bitterly. He pressed her against his chest and tried to pin her arms down, too, but she was fighting. Why had he told her? What stroke of madness had persuaded him tell her? Tell her what? The truth she deserved to know? Why was the right thing so hard?

"Kim!" he shouted desperately, as if she would listen. To his surprise, she did. She collapsed, panting, draped over his forearms.

He truly had not expected that. So he stood there, hanging on to the sobbing mess that was Kim Possible. If he let her go, well, that would most certainly be the end of Wade. Not that Ron would blame her.

"What?" she finally asked.

"I don't think he meant it," he said. "I… I spoke to him a little while ago. Well, actually he sort of stunned me right then and there… but…"

"He attacked you and you don't think he meant to kill me?" At least she was no longer fighting against him.

"He said you weren't supposed to be caught. That wasn't part of the plan. KP, he was a kid back then. In fact, I'd still consider him a kid. A stupid kid that maybe decided to test you for some insane reason."

"He stole my life, Ron!" She once more twisted against his arms and he fought to restrain her. "He helped steal my life! And for what? Money?"

"Garrison wasn't offering a reward."

"I don't care! Where is he right now? I have to find him—"

"Kim, you need to calm down. Right now." He could barely see her in the darkness.

She finally collapsed to the sidewalk, taking him with her. And there she knelt, crying silently, his arms around her. He could not let her go. Protecting Wade was one reason, but… he pressed his face into her hair, smelling it.

"Six years," she whispered. "I come back and everything is gone."

"No, it's not. Your family is here. I'm here."

"You apparently no longer count," she said bitterly. "Why did Wade do it?"

Wade… He couldn't think about Wade right now. "I don't know. But the important thing is that you are out."

"To help Shego. And I'm hardly even doing that. I'm worthless here, Ron. Worthless."

"You're not worthless. You're Kim Possible."

"Used to be." She sighed and turned. He still held her arms. "That girl is gone now."

"No, she's not. You'll find her. I'm taking you home now. Your family misses you. They need to be with you and you need to be with them."

"But I want to kill Wade," she weakly protested. "I need my revenge…"

"You need sleep and you need your family." He scooped her into his arms. She didn't fight him. She was light, so light. They would have to decide what to do about Wade later. He carried her to her door.

Her father answered it, eyes still shining with the sight of his little Kimmie. "You brought her back," he said quietly. "I still… it's still hard to believe, Ron." Then the stern demeanor only natural to a father appeared. "What's going on?" It was almost like a high school doorstep scene.

"Nothing," Ron said truthfully. "Nothing like that. It's been a day. A long and interesting day. She needs sleep."

"Daddy?" Kim murmured sleepily.

Mr. Dr. Possible put his hand on her forehead. "I'm right here. Ronald, you should take her upstairs."

Ron nodded. "Oh, one more thing."

"Yes."

"Lock the door. Whatever security you have, put it in place. I know you have the goods, Dr. Possible."

Panic hit Dr. Possible's eyes. "Who is after her?"

"No one. It's her that's after someone."

It seemed nothing else needed to be said. Mr. Dr. Possible nodded. "Thanks, Ronald. We'll keep her inside."

Kim was conscious enough to climb the ladder to her bedroom, but after that became the dead-tired thing she was. At least she was no longer screaming about Wade. Ron helped her onto her bed and was about to leave when she grabbed his hand.

"Stay," she said simply. "Stay with me."

Innocent enough, it seemed, though he had been raised better than that. Though they were both adults. She needed someone.

Well, her family was just downstairs. What better protection did she require?

"Stay," she said again. This time her hand, gentle as a butterfly, made its way up his cheek He shivered and his heart flipped. Her hand gained power, tugging his hair and pulling his face down towards hers.

The first kiss was nothing. Just a peck, sweet, but just a peck. But the next was harder, firm and hungry, and he opened his mouth to hers. She tasted like tear salt.

"You're going to help me, right?" she murmured between kisses. "You're going to help me? You have to."

"I can't help you kill Wade, even if he does kind of deserve it." He kissed her eyes and nose. It all tasted like salt.

"I just don't know what to do. I'm just… " She paused as she pressed her lips against his for near the count of ten. Then she fell back, breathing deeply. "I'm just glad you're here, Ron. I missed you so much." Her hands went to his shirt, tugging and pulling.

No. "No!" He pushed himself away from the bed. What was he doing? This, and he hadn't even mentioned what he had heard Shego say.

She sat up on the bed. "What? You're not going to help me?"

He shook his head. "I can't think right now. I just can't." He stormed to the ladder.

"Ron!" she called after him.

He pretended not to hear.

"Ron!"

He left the house without another word to the Possibles. They could deal with their daughter. He hopped in his car and drove as quickly as he could to Monique's.

She was sitting on her couch, flipping through a magazine. She looked surprised to see him. "Ron?"

"Monique" was all he said. He pulled her to her feet and kissed her. She did not taste like salt.

* * *

Shego slept late the following morning. Being stunned tended to have that effect on a person. The morning was spent in the tub. Her expensive, fancy tub, filled with water and fancy vanilla bath crystals. None of it seemed to matter. Still, she soaked into it, thinking.

Stupid Wade. How she hated that boy. He had lied to her. Darren's headquarters were in that bunker. She had Kim Possible with her. Little piece of property, all ready to trade, ready to score. And then Darren would have given her back Brexton.

Her arms ached for Brexton.

Well, she could still get Kim. Kimmie wasn't far. Darren Sharp, on the other hand, was an entirely different story.

Shego still wanted to kill Wade. And no doubt Kim would be along for the ride. Another moment of team work before she turned in the great Kim Possible. Pity. They made such a team when teenaged geniuses weren't lying.

Finally the heat began to leave the water. Shego sighed and stepped out, dripping. She stared into the mirror. For a woman and a mother of her age she still managed to look fantastic naked. She pulled a towel around her and considered the plans for the day.

What? Contact Kim? Kill Wade?

And that was when her buzzer rang

Towel still around her, she answered it.

"Shego," said the familiar voice, one she knew so well. "It's me."

She gasped. "Jackson?"

"Yes. Can I come on up?"

The few minutes before his official arrival at her door were far too long. She managed to throw on some underwear and a robe. Hardly appropriate for answering the door, but it had been so long…

Jackson Sharp looked just as she remembered him. Tall. Slender in that university bookish sort of way. He even had the horn-rimmed glasses. Why did professors have to look so darn sexy? Her heart melted and she felt the same way she had the first time she had ever looked at him.

"Shego," he said softly. "You… you look great."

"Thanks," she whispered. "How did you find me?"

"I followed you."

"From where?" She shut her eyes and groaned as everything came together. "You were there. With that Wade kid. You…"

"Possibly saved your life." He stepped forward and shut the door behind him. "That kid is under a whole lot of trouble. It's just a good thing he panicked and called me. I came… I did not expect to see you there."

"I don't understand."

"Wade is a colleague. I promise I never intended him to kill you. It's just a huge misunderstanding. I thought you were someone else. So he gave you the wrong codes."

"Who did you think I was?"

"Anyone else but you. Shego, if I had known, I promise…"

"It's about Brexton," she said quickly. "He's been kidnapped."

"I know. Of course I know."

Tears stung her eyes and she turned her back to him. "Then why didn't you try to find me?"

He put her arm on her shoulder, and to her surprise she did not shrug it away. "That was years ago. Besides, you're impossible to find."

Now she didn't want him touching her. She whirled around, eyes flashing, and to her delight he sprung back. "I'm Brexton's mother! You may be his father, but I'm his mother! Would you doubt that I would do anything in my power and then some to get him back!"

"Shego—" Jackson said.

"I spent millions of dollars purchasing Kim Possible back from Garrison Wiles! Darren Sharp wants her, I know he wants her, but he's impossible to find! He can't be found!"

"Shego—"

"What?!"

For a long time he said nothing. She stared at him, chest heaving. And he just stood there, handsome and quiet, the perfect professor. "You never put it together," he said quietly.

"Put what together?" She gasped. "Oh, how could I have been so stupid! The names! I just thought… Jackson, who is he?"

"Darren Sharp is my father. This was never about you. This was always about me."


	17. Jealousy

Ron stayed late at Monique's. They watched a movie, a Cary Grant one that she adored. She took every opportunity possible to force Ron to watch one of the classics. She would never understand how his taste could not envelope the classics. Not that she didn't enjoy a good blow-em-up flick as well. Fun times, those Saturdays of being together with nothing but junk good and every crazy action movie they could think of.

It was fun, this movie watching. They ventured out for some Beuno Nacho, and soon she had him completely enthralled in _The Grass is Greener_, followed by _Gone with the Wind_. It was wonderfully normal.

Scarlett O'Hara was whining about something for the umpteenth time when Monique commented "I feel so lazy."

"I know," replied Ron. "This is how I normally feel. It's a great feeling."

"But I'm ignoring school and don't think I don't know about the mounds of work you have to do. We should grab Kim and do something."

"Nah, I'm thinking she is spending some time with her family today."

"Of course." Monique hated the way she felt about that. She wanted girl time, suddenly. She wanted to take Kim to the mall. There were so many wonderful clothes out there. Could there be nothing shallower than taking Kim shopping? And yet shopping was such a necessity of life and who knew that better than Kim? "Am I being weird about this, Ron?"

"Weird about what?"

Oh, but he could be such a guy! But even then she could see the tell-tale twitch of his eye. "Ron, let's all just admit this is weird and wonderful and great but still weird."

He hesitated a moment. She knew him well enough to tell what he was thinking. Kim. Not that she could blame him. She could understand that perfectly. And that was just the thing she wanted to talk to him about. The great elephant in the room. And now she was going to turn into the stereotypical girl who was going to demand out of her guy some heart-to-heart and soul-to-soul interaction about something that would half-kill him to discuss. "Okay, I admit it, Monique. This is all very weird. I'll open up to you. This is bizarre. I'm not sure how comfortable am I with the situation."

Monique smiled. He said it so frankly; no sarcasm, just pure Ron let-me-this-in-the-most-basic-way-possible-because-it's-all-I-know-how-to-do. At least it was honest. What else could she get out of him? But the smile hurt even as she did it. Indeed, what else could she get out of him? "Am I being jealous?"

His face paled. "Why would you be jealous?" Pause. "Are you jealous?"

"I don't know." She of course had been ready for that question. She had no prepared answer, but she still had been ready for the question. "Should I be jealous? And that's not to accuse you of anything."

"Maybe we should return to the movie."

"Please. You should have known that me making you watch a classic chick flick would have brought out the worst in me. We're talking."

He smiled warmly and kissed her. "You're evil."

She kissed back. "I know. Get used to it."

"Okay, I'll go along. Talking. Again, are you jealous?"

"Again, I don't know. Jealousy is a strong and strange emotion, and I am a female of many strong and strange emotions. It's nearly impossible to get a straight answer from me about my feelings, I'm sorry to say. So do you think I'm being jealous?"

"Monique, as odd as this is, I don't think I'm in the position to worry if I'm making you mad. Unless I am, I mean. I'm just…" He sighed and shook his head. "We kissed. Me and Kim."

Her heart skipped a beat. A very unpleasant jump over a rather necessary beat. But she wasn't surprised. "Oh. When?"

"Before I came over. And the other day. But she kissed me."

"First?" She wasn't angry. That was the strange thing. She went over and over herself and yet she couldn't feel angry or even sad.

"Yeah. First. I'm so sorry."

"I… I guess I kind of expected you to. It's fitting, I think. Like a movie." It was. It was a perfect scenario, Ron and Kim kissing. And she just wanted to die.

"I guess that's why you asked me if you were being jealous. And there you go, something to be jealous about. But I love you."

"I love you, too."

"I shouldn't have kissed her."

"What would you have done instead?"

"Monique, I didn't sleep with her!"

She sat back from Ron, tears stinging her eyes. Why wasn't she mad? Why couldn't she at least be mad at him? The tears weren't even sad tears! She didn't know what they were.

"Monique." He squeezed her hand, the hand with her gorgeous engagement ring. She loved that ring so much. "Monique, listen to me. We kissed, and then I came right back here. Right back to you. I love you and I'm going to marry you."

"I know." She pulled her hand away and stood up. "I think you should go."

"But…"

"We're not married yet. I can kick you out of here anytime I want."

"Monique."

"Please go."

He left.

She cried.

* * *

He didn't leave. Of course he was not going to leave! This was his fiancée's place and he had every right to be here. She was his fiancée! The thought of throwing rocks at her window, always childish and sweet, crossed his mind, but when Monique was in one of her moods…

She had started it, he told himself as he stomped around the lawn. All that talk of… talking and feelings and jealousy. She was jealous. And he didn't blame her. He was the cad walking around behind her back making out with old girlfriends. He was the scum of the earth and he deserved to be kicked out. Hell, he should probably leave. That would be the right thing to do.

But Monique was his fiancée. He had never loved anyone like he loved her. He remembered the night he had first realized that. A date. A museum. Monique loved museums, go figure. And this one wasn't even being robbed. They had started making fun of some Pollock exhibit that was on loan. After the museum, they had run to the store and bought a bunch of markets and some poster board and cheap craft paint and… well, had made a huge mess that would make any decent art major faint.

And, well, he knew.

He kicked a lump of grass he couldn't even see in the darkness. Why did Kim have to not be dead?


	18. Talks

"Kimmie?"

Voices. Always voices. And just when had she been dumped into an insane asylum? A fluffy pillow pressed around her ears would dull the noise, block away every bad thing happening.

"Kimmie?"

Her arms hadn't even reached for the pillow. So much for a cooperating body. She fell back on the bed, sighing deeply and loving the way the air was fresh. Not that stuff pumped in. Yes, she was grateful to be back. She was in her own room with her own things kept just the way they were supposed to have been kept because this room unlike everything else in her life had known that she would one day return.

"Mom?" she finally responded.

The door opened. Was it right that someone like her mother should have to climb that damn ladder in order to speak to her own daughter? Kim should apologize. But there was her mother, her beautiful and wonderful mother, slipping up through the floor door with the skill of a ten-year old. She had kept herself in fine shape. It was the face that was different. She had aged more than she should have, and the reason was clear. Would the back-from-the-dead incident change things enough?

Kim sat up, smiling through the dried tears that painfully clung to her eyelids. "Mom, I'm glad you're here."

"How often have we said that lately?" Her mother joined her on the bed, slid her arm around her shoulders. Kim collapsed sideways. She could hardly move. Suddenly it was like the other day, seeing her parents, hugging them, touching them.

"Mommy, I'm so glad to be home."

Her mother did not respond. She brushed her finger over Kim's eyes. "You've been crying."

"Ron."

"It's always been Ron."

Yes, it has. Ron from the beginning. Always Ron, that constant in her life. The one who had torn away his touch from her as if she were truly the corpse she was supposed to be. "He left."

"We saw."

"Why didn't you come up earlier?"

"Because I think we still think of you as our teenage daughter. It's impossible to make that change, but we're trying. Too much time has been skipped."

Kim rolled her eyes and sat up. "I'm sick of hearing about this."

"Hearing about what?"

"All these charming little droplets of sadness about how this family has been ruined. We all get it. Everyone gets it." She was not sure where the words had come from, but she could taste the satisfaction in speaking them.

To her surprise, her mother laughed. Not a humorous laugh, but finally a connection Kim could make. "I agree. We've done it. I want my daughter back."

"And I want my mother back."

The room was silent. Pleasantly silent, to Kim's further amazement. A few slow moments where the past caught up with the present of the room.

"Mom, Ron is getting married to Monique."

"We all know."

"It hurts."

"It's supposed to hurt, Kimmie. What did you expect?"

Kim shook her head. "He came up here with me."

"We know."

Was she completely separated from privacy?

"What happened up here?"

Kim spread a hand over the bedspread, and a shock traveled up through her arms as she considered the almost of the day. "Too much."

Her mother inhaled sharply. "What do you mean? You slept with him?"

"I think that might have happened." She put her hand to her head, carrying the shock with it. "I've never been like that. I didn't expect it to happen. I just… I just wanted him so badly. It's been a rotten day. Every stupid adventure from before coming back to haunt me. It's like a bad movie."

"Kimmie, what happened?"

"We kissed, Mom. That was it." She closed her eyes. "I've kissed an engaged man."

"It's completely understandable."

"Yeah, yeah, I get that. Is this how you raised me? To lure other women's men into my clutches?"

"Ron was yours first."

"Mom, what are you telling me to do?"

She sighed. The scientist unable to give an answer. "I'm going to give you a warning. Don't dig up the past. What's happened has happened."

"I thought we didn't want anymore clichés."

"They keep coming. Someone's downstairs for you, if you can handle it."

"I just want a real life again."

The visitor was Brick, sitting on her parents' couch drinking a lemonade. How charming. The neighborhood cop. He smiled as she entered the living room and stood up. "I came to check on you."

She stared at him.

He nodded. "I wanted to make sure everything was… okay."

The chip. He meant the chip. "No danger yet."

"That's good."

"See me to my car?"

Why not?

She followed him out into the darkness. Why did she so lately cling to everything with the darkness? Comforting memory of all those years locked up?

Brick had not brought his police car. Just an old thing, she couldn't even recognize the model. "Nice car."

"Thanks."

She shivered and squeezed her arms over her chest. "Why are we out here?"

He was silent. "I'm not really sure why I came over."

"To make sure the chip hasn't been discovered yet? Protecting Tara's identity?"

He shrugged. He was like some hulking shape in the darkness. He had always been tall, since pre-k. She liked that about him. All through schooling she could count on Brick Flagg to be tall, beefy, and imposing. Like having a pet boulder. "Do you know I don't really talk to anyone from high school? Just a few buddies?"

"Really? Weren't you Mr. Popular?"

"And weren't you Miss?" He laughed. "I was really different back then."

"Nah. I'd say you were still the same."

"Based on what? A couple of days?"

"You were always a leader. You just never used it. Now look at you. Out there, serving the community. Go you."

Another shug.

"And come on. It's like you were never mean. Do you remember that time Ron spread that rumor about us? You were actually rather gentlemanly about the whole thing. I mean, for a high school student."

"I was kind of a jerk."

She leaned up against his car, wondering why she didn't just end the conversation and head back inside where it was warm and she didn't have to be the voice of reason. Just how had she managed to get herself into this position? "Again, why are we out here?"

"I don' t think you realized just how much everyone missed you. Not just your family. Kim, you're like a legend around here." He took hold of the car's door handle, preparing to open.

He was so close to her. What was he doing?

"Brick, what's wrong?"

The silence was too long to create any honesty. "Nothing."

"You're lying."

And then he let go of the door. One hand on her cheek, lips pressed over hers, just a little more than a peck. But not a peck.

She whirled away, gasping. "Brick!"

"Goodnight." He climbed into the car and drove off.


	19. Phone Calls and Their Results

"I still can't believe you did it," Shego said. She leaned forward in the couch, gloved hands clasped together. "You. Selling out Kim Possible. The Kim Possible. I got to say I'm impressed. I'm sorry I acted so crazy with you earlier. But you have my awe."

Wade twisted uncomfortably. He did not seem happy on the expensive chair in Shego's living room. "I'm really ashamed of it."

"Of course you are. Loyalty. I get that. Blah blah blah. Really should have been using that in the first place, kid. Would have saved you a whole lot of trouble."

Wade's eyes narrowed. "Shut up."

"So easy for you to get defensive now, isn't it?" She said with a laugh. "You must be so proud of what happened at your little apartment earlier, aren't you? Having me taken down right then and there."

"You must feel so powerful about having me here at your place."

"I know. And my place is nicer. Not the party pad of your little college fraternity." Shego leaned back on the couch, hand instinctively finding its way to the side where Jackson sat. She didn't touch him, but the comfort came from his nearness. It was so nice to have an accomplice in these things. One that actually cared about the prize at the end.

Wade sighed and looked at Jackson. "You lied to me."

Jackson smiled, and for that moment looked like so much more than the typical little university professor. Evil. Shego liked that. Well, not evil, but certainly more interesting than the usual civilian. No wonder she had been so drawn to him in the first place. "I'm not going to bother saying a word about your own web of lies. Are we agreed?"

Wade hesitated before speaking. "Agreed."

"Wonderful."

"Though I would have preferred you mentioning Shego to me earlier."

"I think I would have preferred that as well. Funny how these little things in life come together."

"Exactly," Shego said to him. "Funny how you wouldn't let me take responsibility of the kid I've been raising on my own the past few years."

Jackson elbowed her sharply. She rather enjoyed it. "Let's not bring that up now."

She bit her tongue. She couldn't help bringing it up now. There was something about having this man back in her life that made every little complaint she ever had just queue up in her vocal cords. "So then, boys, what's in that bunker besides a death trap rigged just for me?"

Jackson and Wade exchanged glances and shrugged.

"Nothing," Wade said.

"Well, not nothing," Jackson put in. "A project of mine."

"A big project."

Shego frowned. "I thought you said it was nothing."

"And because she is the mother she needs to know all of a sudden?" Wade demanded.

She rolled her eyes. "Don't make me kill you."

It was pleasant to see that quiver of fear go through the boy.

"Look," she continued. "We're all here to work together, are we not? Which means we should play nice. I'll be happy to play nice if you two will. We all want something out of this. I want my son back, apparently because of all this fuss Jackson wants the same, bless his heart, and you, dear Wade, know way too much. This is why I never understood why you child prodigies have to be oh so grown up and needing to become "colleagues" with every Tom, Dick, and Harry professor out there."

"Wade is brilliant," Jackson said thoughtfully.

"Brilliant enough to lie to me."

"Kim probably already knows about me," Wade said. "Ron got to her quick, I imagine."

"Oh, boy." This time she slipped her fingers closer to Jackson's. "Guilt. You poor guilty little soul. Taking a moment away from being one of your former arch villains to offer you some advice, have you ever just thought about facing her? Ooh, she'd probably kill you. She's a little nuts right now if you haven't had the opportunity to see. Now, tell me." She squeezed Jackson's hands. "Wade's here now, Jackson. Tell me what's in the bunker."

Wade sighed, pulled at his fingers, and looked everywhere but at Jackson. "Weapons."

"Weapons?" Shego repeated, pulling her hand away from Jackson and turning to stare at him. "Weapons? Anything impressive? And what does it have to do with your father?"

"A bomb, actually," said Jackson.

"Of course. It's always a bomb. I will never understand men and weapons."

"My father wants it."

"Of course he does." This was getting old. "He took our son because he wants a bomb. Is this is a big bomb? A bomb using cool but little-known elements that I will never even pretend to understand? And just what is he planning to do with it?"

"Revenge against Garrison."

"What on earth why?"

"Precisely why he wanted Kim," Wade said.

She had no idea what they were talking about and suddenly she didn't care. She had been so close to delivering Kim. That close. And only have her delivered back to Garrison Wiles? What a waste of time. She bounced to her feet. "You built your father a bomb?"

"No, no." Jackson stared at her, desperate. She didn't care. It was just a project of mine. Wade was helping and…" His voice trailed off as he looked at Wade. "One of my master students."

"Why are you looking at me?" Wade asked.

"This is such a mess."

"You're telling me." Shego paced the room, ready to thrown one of her art books right against the wall. "I've been trying to deliver Kim to the man who turns out to be your father and now you're telling me he wants a bomb as well? How is it messier?"

Jackson stared at the ground. "The student is Ron Stoppable."

* * *

The engagement ring was not fitting right. It was too tight, it was too loose, all fittings within a few moments of each other. Monique could not stop twisting it—not quite pulling it off, but it weighed on her finger as if Ron had bought her some crazy diamond of east coast society. The ring was still beautiful, so she couldn't take it off. But it was driving her nuts and it had done so all night. Not that she had slept much. After kicking Ron out she had cried for a good forty-five minutes, called her mother, and had cried some more. Throwing herself into bed had proved futile, and the streaming sun through her window had finally pushed her back out it. And here she was, pacing the living room, still in her pajamas.

She should call him. She was the one who had kicked him out, she should be the one to apologize. But she couldn't call him. Maybe she should call Kim. She hadn't even talked to Kim about this, not properly, not after the last little incident.

But shouldn't Ron call her? He was usually pretty good that way, calling up so cutely on the phone anytime anything went wrong. She had come to expect it from him. And so she was waiting for it, that little drop of comfort that maybe this was all right.

It was silly. She loved Ron. He loved her. They both knew that.

And with that thought the phone rang.

Monique stopped and stared at it, two fingers still twisting the ring. Not her cell phone, the house phone. She could almost imagine it ringing off its bed in a few moments. That would have been so poetic. One ring, two rings, three rings—

Three was a charm. She grabbed the phone. "Hello?"

She expected Ron, maybe even Kim. "Is this Monique?"

"Yes." The voice was female. Familiar.

"Do you recognize me?"

She should. She already felt stupid for not placing it, but a few more moments… no, it couldn't be. "Tara?"

There was a tinkling little laugh as if from a bell. "Glad you remember me."

This wasn't real. Monique put a hand to her head, dizzy. She really was out of it. "Really, who is this? What you are doing is not funny."

"It isn't supposed to be funny, Monique. It's me, Tara."

"Tara Archer is dead."

"No, she is not. She is speaking to you right now."

It certainly sounded like Tara. "You, Tara… you were decapitated. All over the news. Crime of the decade."

"Yeah… it's… it's a very long story."

Monique glanced at the clock. She had to get ready for school. But she was talking to someone who was supposed to be dead. It was surreal. "Look, this is going to sound incredibly cliché and it probably is but… shouldn't you maybe be talking to Kim Possible about this? Because I'm getting the vibe you did not call me up this early in the morning to catch up and arrange a lunch date."

"While a lunch date would be fun, Monique, no, that is not the reason I called. There is a reason everyone thinks I'm dead. As for Kim, I've already spoken to her. But I need a favor from you, her being the celebrity return of town. Um… I'm already being stupid talking about this on the phone. I'd rather meet you somewhere else."

"Where?"

"My house."

"It's daylight and I have work."

"Call in a sick day. Now. I need to talk to you. Come as soon as you can."

"You're coming out in broad daylight if you're supposed to be dead?"

But there was no response. Tara had hung up.

Monique stared at her phone and cursed.

* * *

Brick found himself at the station early the next day. He wasn't supposed to be on duty, but he had special permission, he was working with Kim Possible. He was practically a celebrity by association, if anyone cared.

Kim Possible. Wow. What had he been thinking? Men did not just go up and kiss someone like Kim Possible.

She was cute, of course. She had always been cute, pretty, beautiful. Gorgeous. Not that he had really cared in high school. Of course he had thought as such. Hadn't every guy? But it was not as if Kim had held the high school monopoly on beauty. So that whole rumor of their love affair had been rather flattering and he certainly hadn't minded the idea of being in a relationship with Kim Possible, it hadn't been a big deal then.

He fell at his desk. There was unfinished paperwork. Who cared? He had possibly the biggest case in the department and was unable to say a word.

Tara Archer. Alive.

Kim Possible. Just kissing her like that.

He hadn't been able to help it. He did not know what he had been thinking. It had been Kim in the darkness, so powerful and Kim Possible-like and yet so afraid. It appealed to him. But it wasn't "just like that". He had never really spoken to her all that much, not in high school, not anywhere. And there he was with the status of being the first one to run into her and somehow they had just fallen together into this partnership.

He hadn't had a girlfriend in a while.

But she wasn't his girlfriend. She wasn't anything. She was just Kim Possible. Certainly a friend right now. But she was in love with Ron Stoppable. Everyone knew that. And everyone was pretty sure the last thing she needed at this time was a relationship.

Well, he couldn't think about this now. Think about Tara. He had to think about Tara.

* * *

Tara's house was a mess. Still blocked off with police tape. At least no reporters were hanging around. All that excitement had to have died down earlier. Even so Monique was not comfortable there, clenching her purse between two hands while she walked up and down the sidewalk in a desperate attempt to look like she wasn't trying to be there. At the house of the murdered girl.

Why was she here? This was crazy. Some nasty little prank and she was an idiot to be taking off yet another day to deal with it. She glanced continually at the window, the trees by the side, anywhere.

She hardly noticed as the car pulled up. She didn't recognize the model, nothing flashy, but on closer inspection high quality, expensive. She glanced over at, not daring to expect anyone, as the window rolled down.

The face in the driver's seat was covered. Big sunglasses, wide-brimmed sunhat. "Monique."

Oh, wow. It was Tara's voice. Monique took a deep breath and dashed around to the other side of the car. What was she thinking? Getting in the car with a dead person? She opened the door, sat in the seat, and slammed the door behind her. Then she released that breath.

"You look great, Monique," Tara said.

Was there a proper response to that when one's companion was supposed to be dead?

Tara didn't wait for a response. "I'm going to drive around the block. The past few weeks have made me feel like I'm in a spy movie, but fortunately this section of town is fairly quiet except for that whole murder bit involving me. Then I'm going to drop you off and you are going to go into the house for me to get something."

"What am I getting for you? What is going on? Why are you not dead? And why isn't Kim doing this?"

"I kind of had to fake my death."

"Your head was cut off."

"That was a clone. I have connections. Honestly, I can't believe Kim hasn't told you any of this. I thought you two were best friends or something. Though I've heard about her story. Crazy this is all happening now. She is… already helping me. But I can't risk her going in there. Has she not told you anything?"

Monique shook her head. She could barely register any of this.

"That's good, that's fine. Probably for the best."

"Tara, I think I am about ready to freak out. Literally. First Kim, then you… "

The car rolled to a stop sign, and Tara put a hand over Monique's. It was comforting. "I'm so sorry. This place is not a safe place to talk. But I'd like to talk to you later. I trust you. But I just need something out of my house and I don't dare go in. And Kim is already helping me. I just need…" she sighed. "A microchip. I can't remember where it is."

Monique paused. "A microchip?"

"Part of the long story I can't tell you yet. Will you look for it?"

Great time to be grabbed for projects, when she was at her most vulnerable. She found herself nodding.

"You are the best."

"I still can't believe you're not dead."

"I know and I'm sorry. I'd love to explain everything. But Monique, I can't just this minute. Please understand."

Oh, but she was tired. She shouldn't be doing this. "Where would I find this?"

Tara shook her head sadly. "I don't know."

And why didn't she know?

The car had circled the block, and Tara pulled up to the curb about four houses down from Tara's. Tara slid her fingers over the wheel and stared ahead. "I'll talk to you later. Go in, find the chip, and leave. Go back to your house, wherever, anywhere. I'll find you."

It was only when Tara was driving away that occurred to Monique just how incredibly stupid this was. Breaking and entering. She was so going to be arrested.

The house was locked. Of course. She circled the building, one eye always out for anyone potentially watching her. There was one window that seemed happy to move, and she slipped into what had to be Tara's spare bedroom. Microchip. Where would it be? She didn't know a thing about computer stuff beyond what the average person wanted to know. Okay, what did she know? Apparently something was up, something of incredible mystery, enough for Tara to fake her own death with… a clone. She wanted to scream and hit something. She wasn't supposed to be dealing with this. No one should have to deal with this. But she would help. Kim and Ron had gone through so many missions of similar intrigue, she could handle this. Well, if it were hidden, why not search this room?

So she did, crawling through drawers of emptiness before acknowledging the room had nothing.

This was insane. Why was Tara here? Talking to her out of the blue? Something wasn't right.

Still, she pushed open the door into the hall.

She barely had time to see someone move before something struck her hard over the head.


	20. A Morning at the Police Station

She had to be insane. What had possessed her to come out here? Was there no sense of responsibility left in Kim Possible? She had been released to help Shego, had she not? Whatever Shego had meant by "help". Shego, a villain, an arch enemy of sorts if one counted all the times they had faced each other for combat. All those great little spars of the past, did they mean nothing to Kim? Well, Shego had failed to contact her since that night at the bunker. If Kim were the Kim of six years ago, that would not matter because she would be clinging to a little something called honor. Good old honor. Apparently it meant nothing when one was sold out. Hah, she might as well be pulling a Dumas and going after everyone, if she weren't going to fight crime and evil. Seek some revenge. Make it all work out in her favor and maybe she could end the day with a little bit of self-satisfaction. She hadn't felt that in quite a while. But it was not honor nor was it revenge that she was here at the police station so early in the day before any petty criminals could do their thing.

Was she here to smack that stupid cop? Was that it? Any girl would not have blamed her, would instead have said she had every right to defend herself and that honor—except honor was no longer a part of it. Clearly Brick Flagg was the same stupid meathead he had been in high school, convinced the world revolved around him and that he was therefore able to take any girl he wanted and expect her to be flattered.

She stepped into the station, dawdling at the door as she tried to find her motivation here. A female cop, older, sat at the desk, filing her nails as she poured over papers that Kim were sure had nothing to do with any police-related. Her eyes met Kim's as Kim finally approached the desk.

"Kimberly Possible," the woman said. "Wow. Such an honor. You have no idea. Apparently you first popped up at this station. Our station."

Once more the honor word and the celebrity status. At least the woman wasn't fishing for an autograph. The demure amazement was flattering, actually. She was a person who had reappeared from the dead. Not Kim Possible, teen hero. Kim found herself smiling, a genuine smile. "That's me," she said softly.

The woman smiled in return. "Incredible. How are you? I couldn't imagine what life must be like. Difficult?"

She might as well have been a mentalist. Or attune to the obvious so many people forgot. "You have no idea. No idea at all."

"I would never want to be in your shoes." She cleared her throat and pushed her papers away. "What can I do for you, Kim?"

Ah, yes. The reason she was supposed to be here. What was that again? All she knew was the panic in her head and the flutter in her heart. But she had to speak because that was expected when one walked into a station of this sort. Looking for something. Needing something. "Is Officer Flagg in?"

The woman's smile did not change. "Yes. Not sure where he is, but he is in. Haven't seen him go out this door yet, at any rate. You've messed things up for sure for him around here. I don't think anyone really knows where he is supposed to be assigned. Please, go back and look around."

Free range of all things police-related and private. Life as usual. Kim thanked the woman and stepped through the next door into the mess of desks that tragically made up a station. A few cops lingered about, preparing for the day. One even sat questioning someone who looked drunk. Her only acknowledgements were the traditional smiles and nods. Yes, she was their Kim Possible. They had found her.

For a moment she stood there, not knowing what to do. Free range, yes, but that did not mean she had any idea where Brick was. Her hand found its way to her pocket, and her fingers slipped over the plastic baggie. The little computer chip of Tara's. Was that why she was here? For real? Maybe.

"Kim?"

She looked up to see Brick approaching the desk she leaned against. His face was lit, but the expression was one of confusion mixed with a slice of terror. "Hi. Did I come too early?"

"Why are you here?" he asked. "Early regardless?"

"I…" She stared at him. She had to admit he did look good in uniform.

And last night he had actually been someone who had wanted to kiss her.

"Is this about last night?" He took a deep breath and ran a hand through his hair. "I am so sorry, Kim. So sorry. I had no right to do that. Are you here… to kick my butt or something?" He tried to laugh, but it didn't work. "Because that's what you used to be known for, I guess."

She pulled the plastic bag with the chip from her pocket. "I thought we could look at this." Really? Was she expecting him to believe that? Was she believing it? What was wrong with her? She was so pathetic lately.

He grabbed her hand, pressing his over the chip. "We should go somewhere private."

They went to an interrogation room. Great. Wonderful. Very private. She sat down in a chair and looked at him. "Brick, I'm so sorry. I don't know why I am here."

"You're here to bring in this chip we were supposed to keep secret!" Brick exclaimed as he collapsed into a chair opposite her. "What were you thinking? Do you want someone else to get this case? Do you want me to get in trouble for withholding evidence?"

"No." She leaned her head back to stare at the ceiling and sighed. "Well, Brick, apparently I'm an idiot. I'm incapable of thinking straight right now. Here I am, doing something so apparently stupid."

"Well, we weren't caught yet and you're not stupid."

She raised an eyebrow at him. "Like you would know? How much do we know about each other, Brick?"

"I'm beginning to think too much."

"Are you actually thinking about last night right now?"

"Maybe."

"I already told you I'm sorry about that, Kim."

"Yeah, I heard. I actually spent the morning thinking about what a pig you were." She paused. Okay, she needed to be Kim. Look him in the eye. Stand up to him. That was what she did. "Why did you kiss me?"

He too paused before he spoke. "That's why you're here, huh? To ask me that very question."

She rolled her eyes. "Yes. I brought out a chip a woman was killed over, sort of, just so I can ask you that question."

"Well, is it?"

"Brick, we are sounding like high schoolers all over again. Answer the question. Please." She sighed and willed herself not to drop her gaze. No more captive little girl. Have the conversation. "I deserve to know. My life is so screwed up right now. I mean, it's not, but I don't know how to react to anything anymore. Everything is different and no one ever explained to me how to deal with any of it. Can I at least know why you kissed me?"

He was visible twitching. "Kim…"

She laughed. A real laugh that escaped her throat without any force from her. "You. Big ol' you, all nervous."

"Kim, you are really cute. Though I assume you've always known that."

"You kissed me because I'm cute?"

He shrugged his shoulders like it was the final answer and not up to further debate. "I'm just going to say it seemed like a good idea at the time. Because, amazingly enough, I'm finding myself attracted to you."

"Amazingly enough? What is that supposed to mean?"

"All right. Don't like it. But you are Kim Possible. I spent high school dating everyone but you despite crazy rumors. Don't get me wrong, you were plenty cute in high school. But oddly enough we ran in different crowds. I was the football guy, you saved the world weekly. I was sad at your death because, hey, it was a sad death. And I was excited when it turns out this is you right here because, hey, that's just cool and awesome and wonderful. And then we've been running around together these past few days and I've talked to you more during those days than I have for years. So I'm a guy. I find you attractive. I like you. So I kissed you."

It was now easy to keep the gaze. He had to be kidding. Was it really that easy for guys? You like someone and you kiss them? That was it?

"Are you angry, then?" he asked. "Because that's what I assumed when you walked in here."

She shook her head "No. I mean, I was a little, last night. And I realize I should be angry because what you did was not romantic, it was forward and weird and I like to think females have progressed past that."

"Again, sorry."

"Brick, I accept all your apologies and any future ones. And I've just decided I'm flattered. You're very nice, you've been incredible to me, and you will never understand just how grateful I am for that. Infinitely grateful. But, well, a girl just busted out of an underwater prison is probably not the best candidate for your next girlfriend. I really should be seeing a psychiatrist but I can't because the world is, as usual, mad. And it turns out I still have this compulsive desire to fix it all."

"Because that's what you do."

She sighed. "Maybe because it's Tara. She was so sweet—is sweet. She's the last person I can imagine to be caught up in all of this."

"See? This is what is so great about you. You're always thinking about other people."

"Like hell I am. You wouldn't believe how selfish I've been lately. There's this whole thing going on with Ron…"

"Yeah, that. Well…" Brick put on a warm grin. "He was your boyfriend first, wasn't he?"

"That's the thing. But apparently that doesn't mean anything and even I know that. I just…" She shook her head. "It's hard. It's what I was saying. It's all different. Ron and Monique are together. Not just together, getting married! They've got to be committed if they're getting married, don't they? That has to mean something. And Brick, I know that! That's why I'm selfish. Because I keep thinking I can have Ron back even though…"

"Even though what?"

"Even though I don't know if he really wants me back. Monique is always there."

"Kim, he has to be happy you're alive."

"Exactly. He has to be. He doesn't have a choice in the matter. I'm his best friend, his girlfriend, I'm suddenly no longer dead. Is he supposed to be miserable about it?" She shook her head. "And here I am, trying to force my way back in."

"Well… do you think he still loves you?"

"Loves me like what? A dear friend? Or a wife? He has Monique for that."

Brick sighed and readjusted his chair. "Okay, I'm probably going to get in a lot of trouble for you for pulling out the advice card, but… let's say that whole death and clone thing never happened. Do you really think you and Ron would have stayed together to this point?"

Always that question. The war against puppy love. "I don't know! Maybe. The problem is I never got to find out." Great. Now tears were coming. She didn't want to be crying right now. "It's not fair. I can't kiss him without guilt and I know he doesn't want to be kissing me. It's like I'm forcing this affair on him." She pushed away the tears with her hand. "I'll be honest. That kiss last night was… was really nice, Brick. Once I got a moment to think about it, I decided it was nice."

"Thank-you. I guess."

She laughed. Laughing and crying, all at the same time. "It's fine. I just wanted to say thanks. For everything."

"Of course. Anytime you need it." He stood up from his chair. "We should… do something with that chip."

"Obviously." She stood up, too. "Thanks again. Do you… do you have tissues somewhere?"

He nodded. "We'll go get somewhere. Anything else you need?"

She closed her eyes. "A hug. Please." She held out her arms for him, and soon enough his arms were around her, holding her just tight enough. It only made the tears flow faster. But it was nice. A good hug from someone who didn't have past issues with her. "Thanks so much, Brick."

"You can really stop apologizing. I already did that." He lowered his head.

What was she doing? Thinking had clearly stopped. She lifted her mouth to his and kissed him. Nothing heavy, but the kiss was wonderful, a perfect combination with a hug. He was a different kisser than Ron.

And that was the only thought of Ron she had for that.

Brick kissed back, too, longer than he had the night before. He was enjoying it. Of course he was enjoying it. He was Brick, he had just confessed he cared for her.

But she was enjoying it, too.

"Well, well, this looks cozy," said a voice from the door. Sharp, amused.

Kim and Brick broke apart.

Shego stood in the now open doorway, arm pressed casually against the frame, sneer on her face. "You have been having fun, Kimmie, since getting back. I'm glad. I really am glad for you. You deserve it. Six years of nothing. Yuck. And this one is cute. Men in uniform. It was really hard to get a cop to take me out, me being all working for evil and everything. But I totally see the attraction. Big thumbs up for you."

"Shego," Kim said. "Of course. I should have been expecting you to come back."

"Thanks for not leaving town. I appreciate that. I still need you for a few things."

"How did you get in here?" demanded Brick.

Shego rolled her eyes. "Please. It's not like we're in here to cause mayhem. Civilians, even evil ones, pay taxes. It's our right."

"We?"

"Yeah, we. I brought one of your friends, Kimmie. Someone who really, really, really wants to give you a big apology. I figured the police station was the safest place to allow him that much. We ran into each other, in a matter of speaking. While you've been catching up on the men, I've been making a few rounds. Wade, come on in."

Wade stepped through the door, twice as tall as Kim had last seen him. His face was set, serious, and prepared. Prepared for what?

Her heart might as well have burst in a bomb of raging blood. "You!" she shouted. "How dare you come here?" Her legs bent, ready to run, but Brick caught her around the middle. "I'm going to kill you!"

"No one has yet," Wade said.

"Oh, you know I can."

"I didn't know you were capable of killing anyone." His voice was perfect, void of any emotion. "Maybe you want to listen to my apology, maybe an explanation?"

"Ron already told me everything, you little monster. And guess what? I don't really care."

He took a step closer. "You have no idea how sorry I am. I was being dumb. Really dumb."

"I'll say!" She made another escape attempt from Brick's arms.

"This is what you get when you hire a kid. Kids are dumb."

"I don't care!" But the scream turned into a sob, and her legs collapsed, weak, leaving only Brick to hold her up. It's true. She didn't care. She didn't care what he had done or why he had done it or that he even had done it anymore. The fury was still there, but it was broken and useless. "Why are you here?" she whispered.

"He's with me," Shego explained. "After we, ahem, tried to kill each other yesterday, we're now in a partnership. And since you I and are still in a partnership, I guess it makes us just one big happy group. You're still going to help me, aren't you, Kimmie? After all, I got you out."

"No," said Brick.

Shego looked at him, frowning. "Um, Officer Cutie, were we talking you? Are you even involved in this?"

"I am now."

"Brick!" Kim hissed as she weakly climbed to her feet.

"Does your little girlfriend agree to it? If you're in, she still has to help me. We had an understanding."

"We'll help," said Brick. "She'll help. If Wade does something for us."

"I don't think he'll agree to throw himself in front of a bus just to make Kim happy."

What was Brick thinking?

"There's a case we've been working on," Brick said. "It's gotten… messy. Wade, what's on this?" And he picked up the microchip that had been on the table.

"No!" said Kim.

But Brick ignored her. "We need you to look at it."

"That's Tara's chip," Kim said. "You can't give it to him! He'll just sell it out. Tara trusted us with that!"

Wade took it, the little spark of technology interest he always had lighting his eyes. The first sign of life she had seen in him. "This shouldn't be too difficult. Give me a computer. You haven't tried pulling it up yourself?"

"We've been… distracted."

"Yeah, I know. I once had some fun in here with cop interrogating me, too. Now keep her at bay, and I'm sure Wade will offer his services."

"I'm sorry," Brick said to Kim in a soft voice as he headed to the door. "I just didn't want you doing anything you'd regret."

She sunk to the floor, humiliated. She was so useless here. "I could really use those tissues now."

"Okay. Um… I'm going to lock you in here for now."

"What?"

"For your own good."

"You kiss me and now you're locking me in here?"

"So you don't kill Wade."

"I'm not going to kill him." She no longer knew the truth of that.

"I'm sure. Just… just wait. I'll be right back." He shut the door behind him.

The next minute passed by painfully. She couldn't think. She just stared at the floor. Okay, Wade had apologized. Logically she knew everything he said had to be true. That didn't mean she still couldn't be angry at him. It was all his fault.

Brick soon returned with the tissues. She took them without a word. And he left again.

He really was a nice guy.

Finally, after an amount of time so long she had lost track, the door opened. She lifted her head, expecting Brick.

It was Wade.

"Hi, Kim," he said.

She took a deep breath and stood. "I hate you."

"I know. I don't blame you. Are you going to try anything in here, though?"

He was too smart. She shook her head.

"There's nothing on the chip."

"What?" She couldn't believe the chip was what they were suddenly discussing. "What do you mean there is nothing on it?"

"It's blank. Not even deleted blank. There's nothing on it. Fresh from the manufacturer."

Tara had stolen a blank chip? All that fuss over it for nothing?

"And there's something else."

"About what? The chip? Wade, I don't even want to look at you right now. Just leave."

He shook his head. "Kim, listen. You need to trust me."

"And why should I do that?"

"Shego. She brought you out for a reason."

"Right. I know. Help her get back her son."

"Do you know how you're helping her?"

Something in the tone of his voice made her pause.

"She's trading you in."

* * *

Ron did not expect to find his professor outside his door. But that was who he found when he opened the door.

"Professor Sharpe?" he asked, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. After the fight with Monique, it had not been a good night, and he slept in way late. "What are you doing here?"

"We have a problem."

"My project? Does that warrant coming to my dorm?"

"Not your project, Mr. Stoppable. I'm afraid I have a bit of a confession."


	21. Darren

"You built a bomb." The words coming right from his own mouth made no sense to Ron. They might as well have been spoken by someone else. But there they were, produced by his own vocal chords and extremely flummoxed mind. Rufus squeaked something from his shoulder, apparently just as shocked. "You took what I was planning on using as my master's project and turned it into a bomb."

Ron sat on the bed of his dorm room, mind whirling as he stared at who had once thought was his harmless professor and mentor, who had taken a seat in the camp chair Ron kept around for Rufus to nap in. Draft papers, as usual, littered the room like a second carpet and Ron could not help but wonder if the mess changed how Professor Sharpe saw him. Then again, that was pretty much the last thing he should be thinking of.

He had just found out that Professor Sharpe and Wade had built a bomb together.

Using him.

"I wouldn't say it that way," Professor Sharpe replied in his typical musing fashion. "You never actually designed a bomb. At least, I haven't seen anything from you remotely resembling a bomb. Though I wouldn't deny the possibility one could be in here somewhere," he said as he gestured at the mess. "I mean, if I had thought you were the type to build one. Wade and I never actually found a paper from you and thought "Hey, let's make a bomb." Never happened."

Ron laughed dryly. "So what am I? Your inspiration?"

"We were building the bomb anyway."

"You're an engineering professor at a public university! Maybe if you were at some snotty Ivy League place I'd see you building bombs, but the largest thing out of campus is the public health program!"

"It is a good program."

"I know, it's a great program. " Ron sighed and leaned back against the wall. Why was his life so odd right now? "I'm just saying University of Middleton is not the place one would expect to be holding a bomb."

"Mr. Stoppable, the bomb's not on campus."

"Keeping on tenure people who build bombs, then. Excuse me if I am still trying to figure out why the hell you were building a bomb."

Jackson shrugged. "Merely for theory. I also happen to have a strong background in physics. It was merely a pet project that happened to improve when we saw some of your ideas."

Ron groaned. "So now I'm involved in a bomb trade? And if I do the slightest thing wrong everything explodes? This is my teens all over again."

"Sorry, but a great deal of your ideas went into its creation."

"Is it legal to take that from me?"

"I honestly don't know. We were planning on giving you credit when we presented the bomb, of course. I mean, your ideas are brilliant. Your ingenuity for engineering much more harmless things is genius. You're extremely talented."

"Thanks, I guess."

"But things have taken a turn for the worse."

Ron closed his eyes. Okay, so it had been awhile since he had fought evil. Since Kim, actually. But he could do this. This was fine. A refresher. An exercise. Getting back in the game. Besides, should it not be cool to find out he had inadvertently helped design a dangerous weapon? Shouldn't he be screaming "Boo-yah?" at this time? He reopened his eyes and stared firmly at his professor. "Just go ahead and tell me everything. I'll pretend it's a lecture. I'll even take notes."

Jackson Sharpe sighed and bowed his head. "My father and I have not… gotten along very well since I graduated from high school. Years ago, I know. I pursued the field of science just like him. Which you would think would have made him proud but my father is, I'm afraid, on the wrong side of the law. It made growing up very interesting, I gotta tell you. It's not like I completely shun evil. I'm pretty neutral on the axis of good and evil, I just don't like seeing people getting hurt. My father doesn't care either way. He formed a small alliance once with a man named Garrison Wiles."

Ron's heart skipped a beat. Garrision Wiles. The man who had help Kim prisoner.

Apparently things weren't quite as allied as my father thought, and Wiles was able to slip off while my father was thrown into prison. Betrayal, pure and simple. My father doesn't… like being imprisoned any more than anyone else would, I guess. I think his reaction was worse. So he's after Wiles now. For revenge. Can't say I blame him. You see, Wiles has most of his operation—"

"Underwater," Ron said.

Jackson's eyes lit up. "Underwater. That's correct. You must have spoken to Kim."

Ron stared at him. "How do you know about Kim?"

He returned the stare for several long moments, then shook his head away. "I'll get to that part."

Ron was not sure he liked the idea of Kim being a part.

"If that bomb gets underwater," Jackson continued. "Down by Wiles' stations, he'll destroy everything that man has worked for."

Good, Ron thought bitterly. Aloud, he said "So are you going to give him the bomb?"

"I don't want to, but I may have to. He has my son."

Professor Sharpe had never mentioned a kid. "He's holding his own grandchild hostage?"

"It looks that way."

"And you want my help?"

"You're involved, Ronald," Jackson said, finally using Ron's first name. "This work is partly yours, I'm sorry to say, so you are involved."

"I don't care." Ron stood up from his bed. Rufus hopped from his shoulder and superciliously crossed his paws. "I don't care. Your father can do whatever he wants to that deep-sea prison. Blow it up. Good. Kill Wiles. Even better. He's a villain. I don't care what villains do to each other."

"You have something personal against Wiles?"

Ron crossed his own arms. He could feel his own heart pounding. "Yes, as a matter of fact, I do."

"Kimberly Possible."

"How did you know about her?" Stupid question. Pretty much everyone knew about him and Kim. And everyone by now probably knew about Kim and her imprisonment with Wiles.

Jackson gave a strange smile. "Oh, the news. Campus gossip. You know how it is. Pretty young lady. Not as pretty as your fiancée, of course. But attractive. She used to fight villains. Just so happens I know one of them very well."

"Shego." Kim had mentioned something. Of course it would have to be Shego.

The strange smile broadened. "Ah, Shego. Crazy woman, very beautiful woman. We had a small affair."

"She's the mother." Ron collapsed back onto the bed. "My professor fathered a child on one of my old enemies. Too small a world."

"Pretty much."

"I still don't care. Sure, I'll let Shego be a mom. She's probably a great mom. Very fierce and protective. I'm sure the boy is a cutie. Get him back. I told you I don't care what happens to Wiles."

"But you do care about what happens to Kim, don't you?"

Ron sat straight up. His heart skipped another beat. "What?"

The smile on Jackson's face was awful now. Like a hunting fox, if Ron had ever seen such a thing. "It's actually quite brilliant, what my father wants to do. Not only destroy Wiles and everything he has done, but take the prisoner he had held for six years and destroy her too. You might say it's pointless, but my father intends to show Wiles just who is the bigger man. Who can kill, and who just wastes time, space, and money on a prisoner. Mock everything Wiles has ever done."

"What are you saying?" Ron demanded. Once more he stood up, fists clenched, heart pounding, pulse raging through his ears. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that Kim is part of the deal. If you don't want her hurt, you had better help."

For what seemed like an eon Ron did not know what to do. It was a horrible feeling, and for that eon he felt like the worst person in the world. All because he was incapable of making a single little decision. He could not choose to help save an innocent little kid. He could not choose to save his best friend. He instead could think about how mad he was at Kim, how Kim's return ruined everything. And how he could end everything now just by refusing. Mourn Kim all over again, move on all over again. Could he really do that just fine?

Then he thought of Kim. Kissing her.

Monique.

Oh, who was he kidding? Of course he had no other choice. Of course he wouldn't think twice before doing anything for Kim. Except he already had.

"What do you need me to do?"

Jackson stood up. "Come with us. Help us. We get my son back. Kim is safe."

"So Kim won't be involved?"

"I'm afraid she already is. Shego brought her out simply to deliver her to my father."

Ron shook his head. "No. Shego wouldn't." He knew Shego would.

"Only if necessary. Shego was desperate. She didn't know about the bomb. She does know. If all goes well, this won't be a problem and Kim will be fine."

"I'll go," Ron said quickly, maybe too quickly. But what else could he say? "I'll call my fiancée. She'll need to know… that I'll be out of town. Or something." He dug through the papers for his phone.

* * *

The ring of her phone slowly pulled Monique from the darkness. She blinked her eyes open. Her pocked buzzed, and the little glow of phone light shown through the fabric.

Phone call. Oh. How perfectly ordinary. Who would be calling? Ron? Was he finally apologizing? Oh, but he had better have a beautiful story. And flowers. She really wanted flowers.

Her head really hurt. Even blinking hurt. She moved an arm to reach the phone.

She couldn't. Her hands were tied.

The ringing finally stopped.

Slowly everything returned in a study mudslide of memory. She had been in Tara's house. She had broke into Tara's house. Because Tara had asked her. Tara was alive. Tara was not dead. Tara had needed something and didn't dare go in. Something for a computer. So she had gone in.

And now she was here, hands bound behind her back, lying on the floor. A cement floor. She could see the cracks in it, illuminated by neon lights far above. Again she tried to pull her wrists apart. It wasn't rope, but cord. The same had been wrapped around her ankles. And the cord did not end there. She twisted her head around and followed the line up to a rather ordinary looking metal pole.

Where was she?

"Help!" she called. She could see the misty edges of the room. It looked like some sort of warehouse or military station. Except she and that pole seemed to be the only things in it. "Help!" she called again. Her voice echoed impressively against the walls and bounced back to her. It gave her the chills.

So this was what came from listening to a dead girl.

She gritted her teeth and twisted until she was sitting up. The action did not do much for her wrists, but at least she was more comfortable.

"Help! Anybody!"

It was useless. She should not have gone into that house. It had been a trap.

She sat there in the cold room, shivering.

Soon, a door opened. Monique had noticed it before, but it was there, even complete with a glowing EXIT sign above it. But no one seemed to step through.

No…

A little boy stepped through, barely above a toddler. His hair was dark and his eyes were bright green. "Hi," he said. "I'm Brexton."

His baby voice was charming, and as alarmed as Monique was to see a kid in a place like this she could not help but smile. "Hi Brexton. What is this place?" She could certainly use a little kid for information.

"The Room." Brexton spoke the last word with special regard.

"Room? What kind of room?"

"It's a neat room. Cool things happen in it."

Well, it did look rather boring to Monique. "Brexton, is your mom or your dad around?"

Apparently that was the wrong thing to ask. Brexton's face looked suddenly very sad. "The man says my mommy is supposed to come for me, but she's late. Not here yet."

"I'm sorry. Where are you staying?" She couldn't imagine a child being kept in a room like this.

"In another room. I have a bed and stuff. Not this room."

"What does the man want?"

Brexton shrugged. "I don't know. I just want to go home. Bye."

Bye? That was sudden. But sure enough Brexton was stepping back through the door and closing it.

* * *

Brick could feel the tension in the air. Not wind, not a coming storm. Something real that could only exist with people. He felt Kim's hand shake in his as the car pulled up to the side of the road where they waited along with Shego and Wade. Where was the tension coming from? He or Kim? All he knew was that he had never felt jealousy as strong as this and he had no right to even be feeling jealousy.

The car was a convertible. Apparently college professors all had to have some sexy car to show off. Or maybe it was to prove they weren't all that stuffy. But there it was. A convertible with two people. The one he assumed had to be Professor Sharpe and the other was someone he had only seen in passing over the past few years. Ron Stoppable.

They climbed out of the car. The tension shot way up. Again, Brick didn't know where it was coming from. He squeezed Kim's hand tighter. He didn't know why he felt he had to do that, but Kim did not seem to mind. No trembling, no tricks at pulling away.

Kim and Ron stared at each other. Ron also stared at the hands.

"Hi, Ron," she said softly. "Sorry about yesterday."

"It's fine," he said quickly.

"I must have looked so stupid to you."

"You weren't stupid."

Brick felt his blood boil.

Shego and Jackson exchanged a quick kiss. "Do we all understand the plan, then?" Shego asked. "We'll carpool. Save a tree or whatever. Jackson, Wade, and Ron in one car. The rest of us will follow. Jackson will approach Darren Sharpe. He'll say something about handing him the bomb. Wade and Ron are there in case Darren has questions. And the rest of us…" A cat-like smile crossed her face "Well, we know what to do. Though I still don't know what the cop is doing here. Those muscles had better be worth something."

"He'll be with us," Jackson said with a sharp look at Brick. "Another associate. Or merely the guy that loads and unloads bombs."

Like he would ever get assigned the bomb squad.

"Good," said Shego.

The cars switched.

Brick did not say a thing to Ron as they drove, and Ron didn't say a word. Why should he? They were guys, they didn't need to talk. But he still felt it in the air. Kim.

She shouldn't be there. Kim was with Brick. Well, not really, but she certainly wasn't with Ron.

And he wanted Kim. Ron had already picked Monique.

Brick didn't ask how Jackson knew the way along the path of old storage buildings that looked more or less the same. He didn't understand villains or how their minds worked. But at last Jackson pulled up to one.

"Out of the car, gentleman," he said.

It all seemed harmless enough. Brick had dreamed of this stuff. Drug busts in abandoned buildings. Such charm and flavor, like an old movie. This was pretty much the same thing except it involved a bomb.

Jackson pulled out his phone and dialed a few numbers. "I'm here," he said. "Let's talk."

And immediately the door opened.

Darren Sharpe was an older man with white hair who really didn't look much like Jackson at all. He also didn't look like a villain. He wore jeans, an old blue shirt. But the gaze between father and son was umistakable.

"So you wish to do a little business?" Darren asked, hardly glancing at Brick and the rest. "So you decided to give me the bomb?"

"Yes," Jackson said stiffly. "I've even brought my associates."

"Always prepared, I see. I appreciate the kindness. Come in, we'll talk in here." And he led them through the boring door into the building.

Inside was impressive. Still definitely a ware house, but it looked… good. Like an old New York flat done up with all the usual comforts.

"Take a seat," Darren asked.

Brick could not help wonder if this were all a trick, but Ron, Wade, and Jackson all sat, so Brick sat down in a chair that faced the cold metal wall behind Darren.

"So you've agreed to give me the bomb," Darren said mildly. "Excellent."

"I want my son," Jackson said. 

"I imagined you would. I'll miss having my grandson around. I will. Sure, you can have him. When I have everything."

"We can get you it very soon."

"Thank-you son, but that's not everything."

Ron muttered something under his breath that sounded a lot like "Kim."

"Besides, it's terrible that you would invite an officer of the law in here."

"He works for me."

"I'm sure he does. But forgive me if I have difficulty trusting cops. Oh, well, he doesn't bother me that much. But you see, I already have the bomb's plans."

"Impossible," said Wade. "There's not way you could get those. You…"

"I did. Though I appreciate you coming. Just in case I am a version or two behind. I'm quite good with computers myself, when I want to be. And cloning. My old partner Wiles and I were very much into cloning. I have a few experts on my payroll. Cloning does wonders when needed. Don't worry, Mr. Lode, the clone was temporary and your roommates are currently all your roommates."

Wade swore.

"Still, I'll be happy to take the bomb itself," Darren continued. "Since it's already made and all. Convenient for me. I just wasn't very patient. Some silly nurse picked it right off of me in the emergency room. I took care of her. Took me long enough to get back the plans, but I did yesterday. Except I was too well prepared. You know how that is. See, I had two people looking for the plans at the same time. Wow. They kind of… bumped into each other."

He lifted up the arm rest of his chair and pushed a button. The wall behind him slid apart

It was a window staring into a room. Boring warehouse room. Except in the middle was a familiar figure.

Ron and Brick jumped to their feet.

It was Monique.

"My own fault," Darren said. "I apologize. I'm just glad you agreed to give me the bomb and save me time." He pushed another button.

And what looked to Brick like giant guns lowered themselves from the ceiling and aimed at Monique.


	22. Brexton

"Monique!" Ron screamed as he ran toward the window. Even as he screamed her name he realized just how stupid had been the action. It was one of the rules of facing villains: Don't give people away. Amazing how many things could be a matter of coincidence. This Darren could have easily assumed Monique to be a random innocent civilian, but that weak connection was gone now in favor of something a lot more powerful. He didn't know if she heard her, but her eyes swept from the guns to him and she knew that she recognized him. Her beautiful mouth opened up in a scream of her own. His name, he knew, but he heard nothing. He pounded his fist against the glass.

One gun jerked, and a bright red beam shot from it, cutting into the ground inches from Monique's foot.

"Let her go, you bastard!" Ron screamed at Darren.

"Then get your filthy hands off my nice clean window," Darren replied smoothly.

Ron kicked the glass hard as strong hands clasped his shoulders. The glass did not even budge.

"Ron," Brick's stern voice whispered. "Calm down. This is not how to react. Keep calm. He's expecting you to—"

Brick. The stupid musclehead had become a stupid muscleheaded cop. And who knew what he had been doing with Kim beyond holding her hand? He had no right to Kim, and here he was telling him to keep calm where Monique was involved. Ron twisted from Brick's grasp and punched him in the face. Brick reeled back, blood streaming from his nose.

"Don't tell me what to do," Ron hissed.

"Ronald," Professor Sharpe began.

"Shut up!" Ron's eyes gazed over the room for something heavy to break the glass. He wasn't thinking clearly. He knew that. And he didn't care.

"Maybe you should listen to them," Darren said as he pushed another button.

Two guns jerked forward this time. Two more blood-red beams barely grazing Monique, who screamed again.

It was Kim all over again.

He felt dizzy. All strength drained from him. He collapsed against the window, muttering Monique's name.

"What do you want?" Wade demanded.

"The bomb," Darren said, drawing his finger back from the button. "As I already stated. And Kim Possible."

"What do you need Kim for?" Brick sat up. The blood from his nose drenched his sleeve.

"Jackson, my boy, your little team here doesn't seem to know much of anything."

"He's just the cop," said Jackson. "He doesn't need to know all that much."

"What do you need Kim for?" Brick repeated in a scream.

Ron felt sick. It was Kim all over again. He mouthed "I am coming" to Monique, who lay panting in terror, and turned around. "You're turning her back in."

"Ron, stop," said Wade.

"I can't believe I trusted you. You lied again. What is your problem?"

"Lied again?" Brick was on his feet now. "What is-?"

Wade pulled something from his pocket. A click of something, followed by a buzz, and Brick was back on the floor, unconscious.

Ron barely had time to blink before his own mind went black.

* * *

Wade looked down at the two motionless bodies as relief flowed through him. Maybe he should have warned them before hand. They were right. He was really bad at that kind of thing. Note to self: Next mission, make sure all participants were on the same wavelength. It tended to get rather messy, otherwise.

He just wished they had shut him when he had told them to. Zapping people out really wasn't was much fun as it looked, and he wished he hadn't had to do it. But they wouldn't shut up. Either of them. He could have explained away one or the other, but both Ron and Brick?

People were so sensitive when it came to Kim.

He slid the weapon back into his pocket and looked to Jackson. This was Jackson's mission, after all.

Jackson was also staring at Ron and Brick in surprise. "Nice job, Wade," he muttered.

On the other side of the window, Monique was watching, tears streaming from her eyes.

Wade would explain it to her later. If all went well. But everything would go well. No negative thoughts.

But he hated watching her cry. She was still hot.

"Ruthless," Darren said thoughtfully. "I approve of that. I guess they weren't involved at the level you two were?"

"They weren't informed about Kim Possible," Jackson said. "They're both… involved with her."

"Well, she is a pretty girl. Too young for me, don't get the wrong idea. But I can imagine how she'd be a heartbreaker. I can see why you kept that from them. So can I assume that means Kim Possible will be included?"

Jackson nodded.

"Excellent. So I'll just take the bomb and Miss Possible and this little father/son reunion will be over."

"All right," said Jackson. "My associate should be arriving soon."

"All right, then. I spoke with her myself, as you probably know. We'll just wait for her."

"I want to see my son."

Darren smiled, and Wade felt a shiver go down his spine. Maybe he shouldn't have taken Brick and Ron out so quickly. "I'm afraid that's not possible yet. Other arrangements were made by your associate. And I still have the girl targeted."

* * *

It felt good to be back in the game. Kim could scarcely believe that was the thought that went through her mind. Back in the game? What was this? A quick practice to get her skills back in order? Oh, it was something she had done a hundred times, snaking through the darkness of a creepy lair of evil. Though having a villain at her side was certainly a novelty. Was that cancelled out by the fact that this villain was going to betray her?

Breaking in had not been too difficult. Not too easy, either. That would have been suspicious, and Kim had learned her lesson the last time. This building was standard protection, nothing terribly more extreme than anything else she had ever seen. Now she and Shego walked through it in darkness and silence.

Kim tried to keep her breath calm, but her heart pounded. Just when was Shego planning to strike? She wished Brick were with her.

But Shego did nothing. She walked ahead of Kim, hair bouncing with each movement, voice silent.

Every now and then she came to a door. She would pause, check it, then slash it open with a blast of green before moving on. Kim would then pass the room. Empty, always empty.

And then Kim would wonder about that and then her thoughts would for some weird reason jump to Ron and how he had stared at her and Brick. She felt nothing. It was just a memory, meaningless. What did meaningless mean?

After pondering that a few seconds she would force herself back to the present and the situation she was in. Wade had told her Shego was going to trade her in for Brexton. Any time now. Shego had told her they were merely looking for Brexton. It could not be that simple. They could have broken in here before and found the kid. One of the doors would lead to Brexton, and then the trade would begin.

Finally, Kim couldn't take it anymore. But before she could do anything, a door was ripped apart and Shego froze.

"Mommy!" came a little voice.

The room did not look like a prison. Not like Kim's prison, anyway. It looked like, well, a little boy's room. A racecar bed, a dresser, a box of toys.

And the trade-off would begin.

Sobbing, Shego scooped up Brexton. She squeezed him tightly to her, and the boy happily wrapped his arms around her neck.

Kim felt something hot behind her eyes. Tears. All right, so she was a softie. Why wouldn't she be touched at this? Why shouldn't she be touched? This was perfect. Shego had not even needed her. Now all they had to was turn around and escape…

Shego finally used one hand to wipe the tears away and then pull a small phone from her pocket. "She's here."

And another door slammed down to replace the one Shego had destroyed.

* * *

Shego only felt some guilt as she watched Kim throw herself against the door. Maybe she should feel more, but who could blame her for being concerned with more important things? She dropped the phone to the floor and ran her hand through Brexton's hair.

This was him. Her beautiful, beautiful son. He was alive and he was healthy and he was right where Darren had said he would be. Though a more specific room number would have been nice. She let herself cry into him, and for once he didn't react with fussiness.

"Did you miss Mommy?" she whispered.

"Mm." He nodded.

She kissed him on the cheek. Sweet baby cheek. He smelled so good. His grandfather was a rat, but at least he had taken care of him.

"Shego." Kim had turned from the wall.

"I'm in here, too, Kimmie," Shego replied.

"Wade warned me."

"I'm not all that surprised. He's quite traitorish, as you know. Ah, well. If he had warned you, why did you come?"

Kim didn't open her mouth. Good. The girl could talk an awful lot. She balled her fists.

"I'm not going to fight you in front of my son." Still, she turned her back to Kim, just in case she got any ideas.

"Put him down, Shego!"

"No. Never again."

"Put him down and fight me!"

Shego smoothed Brexton's hair again and kissed him on the forehead. He lay against her, that wonderful and familiar weight. "Come at me, if you want. Darren will be here shortly and you'll be carried off and I can leave with my son."

"You're trading your son for me."

"Duh. You sure catch on quick. No offense, but he's my baby and you're my enemy. Why would I value you anywhere near my baby? Darren was very kind. He agreed to let me come in, provided I could get in, to get my boy first. As long as you came with me."

"You never changed."

Shego laughed. "Nope. I don't know what the big deal is. You can handle yourself, can't you? Except for that one time. If it makes you feel any better, I really did want to use you for breaking and entering then let you go on your merry way. This is merely back-up."

Kim glared at her.

"I think I can hear someone coming now," Shego said. With a final kiss, she set Brexton on the ground. It hurt her heart to do so, and he clung to her legs. "Brexton, go hide under the bed, sweetie."

"No."

"Mommy says go under the bed."

Slowly, and with a dramatic sigh, he obeyed. She watched him until his little legs were completely hidden from sight. Then she turned to the door. She could hear someone outside. In moments the door would hopefully open.

"You can handle yourself, Kimmie," she said. She let the green light from her hands.

The door opened.

There he was. The man who had caused all of this. Darren Sharpe and half a dozen of his goons who looked like they had been hired from the nearest roadhouse.

"Thanks for waiting so patiently, Shego," Darren said. "I saw on my cameras you even brought Miss Possible. Now if you'll help me—"

At that moment, Miss Possible dropped from the ceiling where she had climbed to, knocking Darren to the ground. Shego launched herself forward, green blast colliding with the nearest of the guards.

Men were always momentarily taken back by a sexy figure, though she hadn't expected seven-to-one odds. The man she had landed on had a red ponytail and tribal tattoos wrapped over his massive arms, but she punched her own fists into those muscles and then into his head. He gasped, eyes glazing over, before slumping to the floor. She jumped back to her feet and slammed another idiot into the wall. Not her style. Didn't work. But who cared?

Kim was busy with Darren and the other four. She certainly could handle her own.

Shego dove under the bed and scooped up Brexton. Then she sprang over the fight and down the hall toward freedom.

"Sorry, Kimmie," she muttered. "I didn't expect that many."

* * *

Monique watched them carry away Ron. She screamed all the obscenities she knew at them, hardly caring they couldn't care her. Ron had come to rescue her! How could she ever have doubted him? He did love her, he did pick her! A rescue, even a failed rescue, was such a better gesture than flowers.

She wasn't sure what had happened, having been a little preoccupied with the lasers that had tried to cut her in half. She hoped, though, that it had been good, even if it had not ended well.

He had better not be dead.

That thought was not romantic. Death was never romantic. Why did everyone think it was? She was not going to sit here thinking how touched she was Ron had died for her. She didn't want him to die for her! She wanted to get out of here and have him be fine and then run off and marry him, wedding plans be damned!

But instead she was still tied to a pole, crying long after Ron was gone and the window had closed.

"Poor little Monique," said a too-familiar voice in an unfamiliar tone.

Tara walked toward her.

Tara who had set this all in motion.

She pulled a knife and slashed the chord. "Get up."

"You're not Tara," Monique whispered. Tara had never been this strong. Monique was practically jerked to her feet.

"No, I'm not. Surviving decapitation is impossible."

"You're like Kim. The other Kim."

"Actually, I'm better. That Kim was a mindless clone." The Tara-who-was-not-Tara dragged her with impressive strength toward a door. "I was engineered with not only intelligence but a lot more power. My creator Grant is very proud of me." She flicked a switch on the wall, and a door slid out of nowhere.

And opened into some sort of shuttle.

"Get in," the Tara clone said, giving her a push.

That push sent her sprawling into the shuttle to land on what Monique realized in horror was a bound-and-gagged Kim, staring up at her.

The shuttle door slammed.

"Enjoy your ocean vacation," the Tara clone called from outside.


	23. Girl Talk, Guy Talk

There was a definite smell to the underwater. Not the scent of the ocean, nothing so poetic. It was what Kim had known all too well for six years, the mix of pumped air already stale from transportation mixed with various scents of candles and incense. Nothing truly fresh whatsoever.

Before mental panic began came the hyperventilation. Every skill she had ever learned went to keeping her mind calm, but her body reacted as she felt the shuttle dock with the station. It could be no other station. The gag was still in place, and her lungs craved to breathe it in with every lungful of air they gasped. Her wrists pressed at her binds in a desperate attempt to pull them away. Not a single action was her doing.

And then came the mental. The blood that pumped madly through her hit her brain and her scream was muffled by the gag. She couldn't be back. She didn't want to be back. No no no no no. She was captured, she was scared, she didn't know where anyone was, days and weeks and months and years were passing and no one was coming and all of it was happening all over again in the horrible pound of a single heartbeat…

And somewhere there was a voice. A female voice. Wiles had so few female employees. Which one was it?

The voice came again. "Kim!"

They hardly ever used her name. She twisted again at the bindings. She wanted to die. She wanted out of here.

"Kim!" The voice was a scream, a vocal knife breaking through the glass jar that was suffocating her.

She gasped again against the gag. Kim. She was Kim. She knew that, she had always known that. She had never been this crazy before or anywhere near it. She took another deep breath through the nose, then another.

A panic attack. Wow.

"Kim, look at me." The voice belonged to Monique. Thank heaven. Her dear wonderful boyfriend-stealing friend Monique. The one who had been capture along with her. Capture before her, actually. At least they were together. With another deep breath that seemed to finish off the panic attack and start to work on the racing pulse she turned to look at Monique.

Monique looked terrified. Of course she was. Monique was rarely involved with missions. She was a fan, a devoted fan and a listening ear. But at least Monique was calmer. "Kim, are you all right?"

Kim nodded. Okay, one panic attack. She had survived.

Monique smiled. She was tired, her make-up was smeared, and her hair was a mess, but the girl could still muster a smile. "Good. I didn't want you to hurt yourself. Assuming we can hurt ourselves when we're tied up like this. Though I supposed anything is possible. For a Possible."

Kim gave a muffled laugh. She was calming down. She was in a place she had never wanted to see again, but she was calming down.

"This is where they kept you, isn't it?" Monique asked solemnly as she looked to the shuttle door. "Where we're at now?"

Kim nodded. No proof except the smell, but where else would it be?

"Kim… I met Tara."

Good grief, she had forgotten all about Tara during this. Though somehow the fact that Tara had survived seemed rather unimportant in light of her current situation. Though Tara was involved. Tara was clearly and ridiculously involved.

"It wasn't Tara."

The "What do you mean?" came out muffled. That was impossible. She had seen Tara herself, hugged the girl. It had definitely been Tara.

"Tara was killed when we all thought she was," Monique continued. "They did the same thing that they did to you when we all thought you were dead."

Oh, no.

"She talked to you. She told me she had. You and Brick. That was not her. The real Tara is dead. The one we talked to was a clone."

Kim closed her eyes. Of course. How dumb was she getting? A clone. If they had cloned her they could clone anyone else. Or better yet, how mean was she being to herself for thinking she could spot a clone?

"I really want to know what's going on," Monique said softly.

Kim nodded in agreement. So here she was. Back at the beginning. Shego had taken her from this place and Shego had brought her back. Fantastic. What had possessed her to trust Shego in the first place? The thought crossed her mind that she should be angry about this, but all she felt was irritation. Well, she couldn't blame a mother for focusing on her child.

And Shego had given her chance to fight for herself. That had to count for something, albeit a grudging count.

Well, she didn't need Shego. She could get out of here again. She had Monique.

"I think I owe you an apology."

For what? It wasn't like they had all come specifically to rescue Monique. She hadn't even known Monique was involved.

"I'm sorry about Ron."

Oh. Him. The dreaded R word. Kim nodded for her to continue.

Monique did everything correctly. Steady voice, eyes on Kim. "It's like fated disaster that you would come back so close to the wedding. And please don't take that I'm not happy you're back. I am. You being alive is a dream come true. I used to have these little fantasies of the very thing that happened. Well, not the very thing, but there was certainly a variety. The thing is, your death was all just a big misunderstanding. I think there were even a few clones in a few of them. The irony. I'm so happy you're back!"

Monique was sincere. Of course. Monique would never be so mean and heartless as to truly wish her back to death. Or this underwater grave.

"But this Ron thing is a big deal. I don't have the background with him that you have. You've been best friends since Pre-K, you're as close as anything, while I moved in during the middle of high school. In some ways I wish I had the history you had with him. Because, Kim, I am madly in love with him. I would do anything for him. And I know that he loves me. And I know it might be hard for you to hear that. But it's true. The boy wears his heart on his sleeve and he loves me and he wants to marry me and I don't think you coming back can change that. I can't imagine how you must feel knowing that."

Heartbreak. Classic heartbreak to the extreme.

"But he loves you, too. He loves you so much and he always has. So it probably sucks the most for him right now." She gave a dry laugh. "I really don't think he's meant for this type of drama. It's not good for him. And, well, you're amazing, Kim. You're the most wonderful person ever. Who wouldn't be madly in love with you? I…." Her voice stopped, and she spent a moment catching her breath. "If we get out of this—excuse me, when we get out of this, I'm going to call off the wedding. It's not fair to any of us. There's a reason you came back when you did. Maybe… maybe you and Ron are meant to be together. I'm pretty sure you would have wound up together if things had gone differently. I'll call off the engagement, and we can all see where this winds up."

The first thing that came to Kim's mind was a big fat no. No, you idiot girl, do not call off the wedding with the man you love! For that first thing just included two people that loved each other. Not Monique, not Ron. And all Kim could feel was horror and sorrow that Monique would even dare consider such a thing. Next came relief. Relief and total and complete agreement because yes that was what needed to happen because Ron was hers and hers alone. Except he wasn't anymore. But he could be. Monique was right and maybe things needed time. Lives were in messes. And the third thing was that crazy kiss with Brick and the childish holding-of-hands.

"May the best girl win," Monique whispered.

Kim suddenly felt like the biggest jerk in the world.

The door opened then, much to Kim's next thought of "Finally". She recognized the narrow hallway of Wiles' underwater world. She also recognized the creep known as Darren Sharpe. And she recognized the uniforms on a few unconscious guards whose bodies littered the hallway.

"Sorry, ladies," Darren said. "I'm… technically not supposed to be here, you understand. Your former captor and I do not get along, Kim, I'm afraid. Like you got along with him any better. Imagine, someone faking your death and caging you like an animal for six years. Terrible."

With strength surprising for a man his age he yanked them both up until they awkwardly reached for the ground with bound feet. He frowned. "That's not going to work for me. But kick me and you're both dead. Except you will be anyway."

What was he talking about?"

He untied their feet, a gun in his hand.

Kim waited. She even followed him obediently down the hall—as obedient as she could be with bound wrists. And she waited all the while. She recognized the hallway, it had been burned in to her mind. She hated this place. And she hated this man who had brought her back to it. And she was not going to listen to a thing he commanded.

She was Kim Possible.

When the moment was right she kicked, foot whirling upwards in a jump that connected with his head. With a groan Darren slumped forward.

"Back to the shuttle?" Monique asked, already moving.

Kim nodded.

But before either woman could reach the door, the gun in Darren's hand went off. Kim leaped to the side in instinct, but the bullet landed nowhere near her. Instead, it landed with perfect marksmanship on the lock.

No. It would not take a test to see that the lock was now jammed. Even with hands available they wouldn't close the door. And Kim had no idea how to get to the shuttle controls before Darren could shoot again.

Kim whirled around the other way and ran past Darren as he struggled to his feet. On second thought, she came back and gave him another kick. The gun went skidding across the floor, discharging into a whole in the wall.

Darren just sat up and laughed. "Fine. I won't deliver you as planned. I'm flexible. I can get out of this place. You won't."

Kim didn't listen to anything else he had to say. She kept running down the hall, Monique at her heels.

Darren picked up the gun, studied it, then fired again.

With a scream Monique collapsed. Blood flowed from her leg. Kim stopped and sat down next to Monique.

"I suppose Kim can still run without her friend," Darren said. "I don't care either way. I'm out of this soggy dump." He walked into the shuttle.

Kim didn't care what he did. The blood was quick. And her hands were literally tied.

* * *

"Wake up!"

Brick's eyes fluttered open to stare at a smooth white ceiling. How random.

A voice sighed. "Good. You just helped me pass a test in adjusting the power of this thing."

Wade. Oh, hell. The teenage brat who had jolted him down. Brick was so going to punch him. Later. Now he had to figure out where the hell he was. He sat up to stare at the rest of the mess of boring white simplicity.

Ron sat on a bench not far away, looking upset. Not that Brick blamed him, he felt the same way.

Jackson Sharpe sat on a folding chair, hands clasped like any other professor.

"What did you do to me?" Brick demanded of Wade. "What is going on?"

Though looking around certainly gave him a theory. He had been tricked. Outlandishly tricked. And now he was kidnapped by brilliant scientists.

How did Kim put up with it?

"I had to do something," said Wade. "You and Ron were giving us away."

"By mentioning Kim?" Ron asked in a voice more appropriate for a threat.

Kim. "Is Kim all right?"

"And Monique," put in Ron. "Where did they take them?"

Jackson unclasped his hands. "I'm pretty sure they're with Garrison Wiles."

Garrison Wiles. Brick released his breath and sat back heavily. He had let Kim be captured again by the same monster. Had he? Was he supposed to protect her? Wasn't she capable of protecting herself?

"Just like you planned."

"Ron," began Wade.

"I'm trying really hard not to strangle you right now."

Wade sighed and stood up. He was quite tall. "You know, Ron, I don't care. Just listen to me. Kim was never supposed to be caught. That's what Jackson and I were trying to prevent. I knew Shego was going to try something. I had no doubt in my mind."

"But once again you thought Kim could handle herself. She can't always do that, Wade! It didn't work last time and it's not working this time!"

"She can, too!" Brick heard himself say.

Three pairs of eyes stared at him.

"She can, too," he repeated, more softly. "She'll be fine. If we help her."

"I'm sorry," Jackson said softly. "I would have handed her in, but only if there were no other way. That was the idea. If there were no other way. We're sorry, but you have to understand—"

"I hate understanding." Brick wanted to punch something. "I get it. Your kid. Kidnappings happen. I'm sorry. But this isn't the way to do it."

Jackson laughed. "Spoken like a true cop."

"So where are we, then? What's the plan?"

"We're on a submarine," Wade explained. "I still have a few connections, and plenty of people are willing to rescue Kim."

"Does Darren have the bomb?" Ron asked.

The silence that followed was answer enough.

"I had to give it to him," Jackson said. "He had my son."

"Where's your son now?" Brick asked.

"Shego has him."

Despite his fury Brick felt relief. Good. He could feel relief a child was back with his mother. Even if that mother was a villainess. "I'm glad."

"So am I."

"And I'll be third there," said Ron. "Because I'm now deciding this is a rescue mission."

"It is," said Wade. "Finally, a rescue mission. We should be at Garrison Wiles' headquarters shortly. We can get in, get Kim and Monique, and get out. Maybe even deactivate that bomb."

The "shortly" Wade mentioned was far too long. No one spoke, and Brick lost count of the minutes. It couldn't have been more than fifteen, but it felt like hours before the submarine at last rose to the surface.

"How did you get in?" Wade asked as they climbed out into a wide docking space.

"Wade can get anywhere," Ron said.

Wade gave a small smile.

So this was Kim's prison, Brick thought to himself. A quick glance at Ron told him he was thinking the very same thing. And Ron and Kim were close. What would this be like for him?

As if reading his mind, Ron spoke. "So what happened?"

"Huh?"

Ron rolled his eyes. "Between you and Kim. I noticed the interdigitation."

Brick kept his eyes focused on the locked doors Jackson and Wade so deftly made their ways through. "Why are you asking?"

"I think I deserve to know and I think you know that, Brick."

"I don't know."

"You don't know what happened? Amnesia getting you? The selective kind?"

"I kissed her the other night."

"Lot of that going around."

"Then we kissed the next day."

Ron didn't look surprised. "Just like I imagined."

Brick really did not want to be having this conversation. "What? Are you surprised? Do you even still love her? I thought you were engaged."

"It's a very complex thing."

"You're telling me."

"So she kissed you back?"

The memory rushed back. "Yeah. Do you have a problem with that?"

Ron was silent for a long time. "No. What does that say about me?"

"You're in love with this amazing girl and you don't care when she kisses someone else?"

"I care. But like you said, I'm engaged."

"So you do love Monique?"

Ron nodded. "Yes. I do love her. And I'm going to tell her that."

"What about Kim?"

Another long stretch of silence. "I don't know. I really don't know. But I'm afraid it's simply that the ship has sailed for that."

"Too long?"

"Yeah."

"I'm sorry."

"Thanks."

With the next bit of silence, Brick's ears turned to the conversation between Jackson and Wade. "… so if we're doing this right, Wiles' office should be somewhere around… "

The next door opened to the first hall that was actually guarded. Distinguished-looking soldiers, not that such things affected their physique.

"Yeah, we broke in," said Wade, a touch of the manic in his voice. "Take us to your boss for punishment."

Brick had worked security before. He would have done the same thing as the guards, and that was what Wade counted on.

Within minutes, they were in the office of Garrison Wiles.


	24. Rescue

Ron could not take his eyes off the man. So this was him, the man who had held Kim for so long. The man whom Ron wanted nothing more than to tear from limb to limb. He did not look particularly threatening, being of the more refined branch of villainy. He looked like someone's respectable grandfather, even kindly. But Ron hated him. He hated the very look of the man and the way he sat at his expensive desk surrounded by his nice things with his hands clasped together and his surprised expression on the gathering of sneaks before him. Ron didn't think it was possible to feel this much hate.

Kim. It was the one piece of logic in his head that was more than gibberish and emotions. Just "Kim". This man had stolen Kim away from him and everyone. This man deserved to die. And that was something Ron rarely thought of people. He was not cruel; at least, he did not think he was cruel? But the past few days had shown him, to his horror, that he could no longer be sure.

Hadn't he so recently wished Kim had stayed here?

But now that wish was gone in the wave of hatred he felt now. He was so close to this Garrison Wiles, this white collar criminal of no deadly threat who Ron had so rarely thought of before now. Ron's brain hurt from the blood pumping through it in a desperate attempt to find reason and motivation (it found those in plenty) before streaming to the rest of his body.

Ron felt ready for anything.

And yet nothing was happening. Jackson, Wade, and Brick were all still. Jackson and Wade, well, Ron could understand that. But Brick? Brick has a man of action, or at least he had been even though one would expect fairly the same from a cop. Ron half wondered that if he began an attack Brick would follow.

"Well," Garrison Wiles finally said in his deep, smooth voice. "I must say I'm a little surprised to see… guests here when I have no recollection of inviting anyone over this evening."

"We have news," Wade began.

"I tend to be a rather private person," Garrison continued, as if he had not heard Wade. "I have friends, of course, and I do try to be respectively social. But my nature is simply private and that is something that goes into the creation of the underwater home you see before you. My wife doesn't particularly care for it, so I'm not always here. But we've known each other long enough to feel that we don't always have to be together for a healthy marriage and I do care for her dearly and even miss her right now."

"Sir, we have something you need to know," Wade said more firmly.

"Breaking and entering." Wiles shook his head. "Such a classic. A lowbrow classic, but a classic nonetheless. My own fault for not investing more in security. I will admit I'm impressed you managed to get yourselves in. Unfortunately, you still broke into my property."

"Sir, we've reason to believe there's a bomb aboard," Jackson said.

"So now you expect me to believe you're members of some elite bomb squad. I don't believe that and in fact I'm rather insulted."

Ron stood through all of this in greater and lesser ranges of listening. What he heard told him enough. Wiles was the kind of person Ron did not like. A snob. Probably saw no harm in what he did to Kim. Didn't care when facts were staring him straight in the face. And suddenly he had heard enough.

"You kept my girlfriend here," he said. His voice was probably a whisper, but it sounded like a scream to his ears. "You kept her here for six years."

Wiles nodded, seeming glad to be away from the other conversation. " Ah. I'm beginning to see what this is about. A revenge party. Don't know why you needed to bring up a bomb. Yes, I did keep a young lady here for about that amount of time. Was not very pleased with her. Then again, I suppose villains like me are never pleased with heroines like her. Kimberly Anne Possible."

Wade had gone still. Ron almost felt bad for him.

"You do realize she left this facility only a matter of days ago."

He looked so calm, so pretentious, that Ron could not hold himself back any longer. He leaped over the desk at Wiles and knocked him to the ground. His hands found their way around the old man's neck, and the eyes stared at him in surprised and horror.

"Ron!" Brick screamed.

A pair of hands grabbed Ron's shoulders, but Ron twisted away. This man had taken Kim from him, from everyone who cared about her, scared her, kept her caged, made the whole world believe she was dead.

He was no longer upset Kim had come back. Why had he ever dared think that? He was glad Kim had returned, he was jubilant. Even if things were weird and confusing and a mess. He was so glad she was back because it meant she was alive. And as long as Kim was alive she could do anything. So things had changed. He was in love with Monique. He wanted to spend the rest of his life with Monique.

But Kim meant everything to him, too. She always had, she was one of the best things in his life. He would rather die before letting this man get away with what he had done.

Now Garrison Wiles lay in his power and if there were ever a time Ron wanted to kill someone it was…

"Ron! Stop!"

Ron was torn away from Wiles and thrown to the floor, the weight of Brick pushing down on him. From the corner of his eye he saw Wiles sit up, rubbing his neck, and gasping for air.

Ron could barely think. He shook, and his own breath sounded raspy. Images of his attack on Wiles flooded his brain. What had he just tried to do? It had been for Kim. But what had he just tried to do?

Brick locked eyes with him. Brick, who had always held the calm of ignorant bliss, now looked completely knowledgeable.

Ron considered pushing him away. For Kim. If Brick cared anything for Kim, he would let Ron do this. Yet while the hatred was still there as strong as ever, the desire to kill was gone, replaced by weakness. What had he almost done?

"Calm down," Brick said hoarsely.

Ron nodded.

"He never tried to kill Kim. You may hate what he did. I hate what he did. But he never tried to kill Kim."

That was true. There were worse things than death, however. Had the imprisonment been? What would Kim have preferred? He didn't know. He would have to ask her. But Wiles had never tried to kill her.

"Darren will try to kill her," Brick continued. "I'm sure of it. Why bring her here plus the bomb? Save it for Darren."

Ron nodded again. That made sense. He hated the logic, but it made sense. First Darren. Then Wiles if need be.

Wiles gave a weak laugh as he climbed back to his chair. "I've upset a few people by my actions even after the girl is no longer in my custody. I suppose I should apologize for that. You want me dead, is it? Why didn't you come during the past six years when she was actually with me? That would have been more logical. I say let bygones be bygones."

"We're not here for you," said Brick as he stood up from holding down Ron. "What they said was right. There is a bomb somewhere in this place. The kind that will explode and kill us all including you."

For the first time Wiles seemed to believe them. His mouth turned down in a frown. "That's impossible."

"Oh, it's possible," said Wade. "We got in."

"Why would anyone want to blow me up? There are so many other ways of getting to me besides killing me. I'm the type people want behind bars, not necessarily dead. I contribute to charities! Albeit with dirty money."

"Does the name Darren Sharpe ring a bell?" asked Jackson.

Wiles cursed under his breath. "I haven't thought of that man in years."

"Do you have cameras?" Wade asked.

"Of course I have cameras, boy." He flipped a switch, and the surface of his desk became a large monitor displaying multiple screen windows."

"You should use them more often," Brick said.

"But so far I see nothing, officer." Wiles scanned through the windows, using a finger to examine each one, pulling them out from the row. "My men, nothing, nothing, my men…." His voice trailed off into silence before reverberating back with another curse. "Is it just you here? Is this a trap?"

"Darren," Jackson said under his breath.

Unless they were right and the girls were here. Ron leaned over the desk to see the window in question.

Two figures on the floor. Women. Monique and Kim. Monique was… hurt.

"What did you do?" Ron screamed. Maybe he would have been right to kill Wiles the first time. "What did you do to her?"

"I did nothing!" Wiles responded loudly. "I can't believe Kim Possible would return here!"

"Where is this?" Ron demanded, pointing to the window. "My fiancée is bleeding."

"If it had been the work of my guards I would have been informed." Wiles flipped off the screen.

"Turn that back on," Brick demanded.

"No. You've seen enough and I'll be happy to direct you where you need to go. I was paid for that girl, I'm a fair man, I no longer want a thing to do with her."

Darren had brought Kim and Monique, then. And then had shot Monique. All the anger Ron had felt toward Wiles found a new target.

"Out my office," Wiles instructed. "Go straight, then right, three more halls, right, second left."

"What?" Brick asked in horror.

"Got it," said Wade.

Leave it to Wade to remember it all.

"Then leave," Wiles said. "Get your girls and leave this place. I don't want to be involved anymore."

"The bomb?" asked Jackson.

"Take care of it if you find it. I'll put my own men to the task of finding it, but I'll be out of here shortly as well."

Getting shot in the leg was an entirely new experience for Monique. It wasn't spouting. That was good. Or so she seemed to recall. Slow blood flow was better than loosing it all. She tried to turn so the wound would be pressed against the floor. Staunch the blood flow. Meaningless first aid without the wonder of hands. At least she had Kim with her. Good old Kim. But Kim could not do much either, and Monique felt she had already talked plenty.

Though she could not hold back the "I'm so glad you're here."

Kim nodded.

More time passed.

"You should leave. Find help."

Kim's eyes responded with "What help would we find here?"

So it was going to be like this until something came along and changed the course of everything. They would be lying in this boring little hall, she with a bullet in her leg, slowly bleeding to death with her best friend at her side…

"Kim! Monique!"

Kim's head jerked around, and Monique laughed. She was going crazy. She was hearing things. Who in the great ocean would know she was here? Too much blood loss.

But Kim had clearly heard something, too.

Kim was on her feet now.

"Monique! Kim!" Nice little switching of the name order. Only Ron would think that way. If it were Ron.

If it were a delusion, it was a good one and she might as well play along. "We're over here!"

The pounding of footsteps became real. There was a rush of color and faces and suddenly Monique was no longer on the ground but up in the arms and staring into the face of the man she loved.

"Ron!" she said in disbelief.

"You're bleeding." Once again stating the obvious.

"I was shot." Had he noticed that part. She kissed him. "You came. You're incredibly late and you were supposed to call this morning or even last night would have been great but you came! You are in fact here unless I'm dead or hallucinating."

"You're not hallucinating," he said, kissing her back.

"How did you get here?"

"Wade called in a favor."

"We still have those?" Brick had removed the gag from Kim's mouth and that was the first thing out of it. That girl, sometimes, good grief.

"Of course we do," said Wade. "You have a long list of aids that are still good."

"All the good they're doing us now."

"Wade, I thought I would never say this, but thank-you."

"Don't mention it. Really."

Ron set Monique down on the ground. "It doesn't look too bad, though it might be really nice to get that bullet out of there. Is this bullet still in there?"

"Yes!"

"Just had to check." He ripped the sleeve from his shirt and tied it around her leg. "There. We need to get you off."

It was the oddest thing, but Monique felt gleeful. Or maybe it wasn't odd. She had just been rescued by her fiancé. This was good and wonderful and romantic. Of course she would be gleeful. But there was something else. Ron had come to her first. Of course she was the injured one, but Ron had come to her first. She met what she had said to Kim. At a more appropriate time she would tell Ron to call off the engagement and wedding until things made more sense. But for now… things seemed to be in her favor. It wasn't spiteful toward Kim, it wasn't even proud. It was the success of a fair win.

Besides… something else seemed to be going on.

Brick still stood by Kim, talking to her in a low voice.

It couldn't be. Could it?

"We need to leave," said Professor Sharpe. Ron's mentor? What was he doing here?

"But we just got here," Monique said. Fine time to be attempting joking.

"This place could blow very soon."

"There's a bomb?" Kim demanded. "Here? With us? So that's what Darren had meant."

"You saw him?"

Kim nodded. "He… he brought us here and he left."

"Damn it. I was kind of hoping for revenge."

"I vote we leave," said Ron, picking up Monique again.

"I think that sounds like a great plan," she said. "I'm so not going to end my bad day with being blown up."

"But if we can find the bomb," said Wade. "We could-"

"Protect everyone here," Brick finished.

Ron shook his head. "Monique is hurt and I don't think Kim even wants to be down here. She doesn't deserve to be down here."

Kim beamed. "Why, thank-you, Ron, but I can handle myself."

"Then what do you vote?"

She paused a long time. "I say we leave. To your submarine."

The shuttle was small, barely a speck making its way through the darkness of the ocean, yet Shego was feeling rather alert at that moment. The craft she operated was much more impressive than a mere little travel sub. And what kind of craft would be zooming away at such speed from the very direction of Garrison Wiles? She smiled to herself as she flicked on the radio. She didn't even bother with protocol.

"Is this someone I know?" she asked.

She tried a new tactic, one even more fun. "Lost at sea. Sprung leak. SOS." And all that jazz, she added mentally.

Still nothing.

Well, she would be taking this little bug back to Wiles until she learned the truth. She turned on the pressure gun, designed to sent sound waves strong enough to pus anything in what ever direction she so desired.

"You're not going anywhere until we have a little chat, Darren," she said.

The little shuttle struggled against her power, but this was Drakken equipment. He had loaned it to her just hours before. He could be surprisingly generous when he felt like it. Besides, it was babysitting collateral. Brexton was the least bit upset when she returned, and this thing was going to be in she repair shop for awhile.

"You're going with me," she whispered to the little shuttle.

"Who is this?" Darren's voice crackled over the radio.

"Brexton's mom."

"I never thanked you, Ron, for coming." Kim's voice sounded too stiff even to her, but then again running to the dock of a submarine wasn't the best time to be discussing feelings. "I'm so glad you came."

He still had Monique in his arms, and to Kim's surprise she didn't care. Mostly. There was still something. She didn't understand what she was seeing, but now it was… whatever. Not a mean whatever, but a neutral whatever, perhaps even a good one. He was kind to her, and she was kind to him.

She'd have to think about it later.

"KP," he said with a grin. "Why would I not come?"

"Because you're an idiot," she said with a laugh. They had reached the submarine. "Here, get Monique inside."

Ron disappeared inside.

Ron. He was still Ron. Always would be Ron. She smiled to herself. That was something.

But before she could enter the submarine herself the water around it rippled.

"Oh, great," said Wade. "Now that the place is possible about to explode everyone shows up."

There seemed to be two crafts, by the looks of things, struggling for room.

They had better be able to leave despite these morons.

Then a figure popped up from the water. Apparently the bigger of the vessels had not managed to find room. Dark hair, pale face.

Kim stared. It was Shego.

And she had with her another figure. Darren. Her hands were on his collar.

"Shego!" Kim screamed.

Shego stroked toward the surface with one arm. "Not now, Kimmie. I brought you back a little present." With a final burst of strength she threw the gasping form of Darren to the dock. "Darren has something to say, doesn't he?"

Darren gasped for air, then shook his head.

Shego's fist lit up. "Say it. Basically, he's about to declare himself in a little bit of trouble. Kim, I suggest you get in your boat and leave. I'll be fine."

As if she were worried about Shego.

"Darren, you're still not speaking."

"I could have him arrested," said Brick. 

"Boring. Jails are too easy to break from." She brought her fist closer to Darren's face. "Like I would actually let you kill Kim. Now tell them what you did with the bomb. What you told me."

Wade widened his eyes. "The test."

"It'll go off in a matter of minutes," Darren finally said.

"And where will you be?"

Darren stared at her in terror. "I'll be leaving with you. You wouldn't leave me here."

"Kimmie?" Shego turned to Kim.

A villain. One who had tried to kill her. Had kidnapped a child. Stolen, lied, everything. Killed Tara. It was a strange list of thoughts.

"Where's Jackson?" Darren demanded. "My son will…"

Jackson was already inside.

"I won't even bother telling him," said Shego. "After what you did to his son. He doesn't want to know your fate."

"No." Darren sat up suddenly and flung Shego away. She landed hard on the dock, but sprang back to her feet.

"I don't care about the bomb," Darren said. "I don't need to watch the bomb's demonstration." He began heading to the submarine.

Kim launched herself at Darren. She still had it, she still had it very much. Her hit was good, and she twisted her arm around his neck and forced both of them into the water. She was an excellent swimmer.

Darren gasped for air then with one muscular arm put his hand on top of Kim's head and pushed her down.

But in a moment she was above water and Darren was back on the dock, rolling under the attack of Shego.

Kim watched, wondering if she should help. Shego had come back. Who would have expected that?

But before she could decide, something faint echoed far in the distance of the facility. Kim turned. The boom came again, louder, followed by the barest glow of structure around her.

The bomb.

Brick leaped on top of Darren and pushed Shego away. "I'm stronger!" he shouted.

"Like hell you are!" Shego snapped back.

Never insult Shego.

But Brick had played football, Brick was a big guy, and Darren was an old man. And apparently Brick was a gentleman.

"Get in the sub," he commanded as he pinned Darren down.

Kim paused, but Brick seemed to be in control. "Shego, let's go."

"But I wanted to take him!"

"You're the sneaky one. Let him be blown up and that'll be revenge enough." Kim hopped through the submarine's hatch. The air was getting ridiculously warm and the booms were coming closer and closer. Wade jumped in behind her. "I wish I could see it in action—"

"You don't want to."

Shego stood at the hatch, but hesitated.

Kim shouldn't care. This was Shego. Shego who had betrayed her. But… "Shego, think of Brexton and come on. Tell Brick to hurry up."

"Yo, cop, hurry!" Shego jumped inside.

But Brick didn't come.

Instead a glow the color of fire swept over the top of the hatch. With a scream Shego closed it, and the sub began to descend.

"Brick," Kim breathed.

"We have to go!" Jackson said. "Or we'll all die!"

"No!" Kim grabbed the rungs on the ladder, but Ron pulled her back just as another final boom shook the sub.

It dove faster, apparently unharmed. The pressure rose to Kim's ears.

"No!" she screamed a final time.

Ron squeezed her to his chest.


	25. New Beginnings

The last of the orange waves ebbed into the deep ocean water. A slow blast. Impressive, incredibly impressive, but very slow. Garrison's oldest girl worked a little with explosives. He would have to ask her if that slow burn would do more damage. He himself knew very little about such things. Ah, well. Funny how he should be wondering about those details when a multi-billion dollar project had been reduced to spare metal.

He was going to miss it. At least his wife would be happy. No more of him trekking off to the bottom to "that fake Atlantis". It wasn't the money loss that got to him. He had appreciated that place. Ah, well.

At least he and most of the staff were alive. That was what mattered. Life was what mattered.

Garrison turned from the window to look at his guest. The cop. He liked this cop, and that was not something he could say for many of police force. Still, when someone saved your life, it was difficult not to feel some sort of liking. Officer Flagg was still drenched despite the towel wrapped around him. Still, he was in good condition, no serious injuries. He would probably expect to be checked at a hospital, and Garrison couldn't very well argue against that. But besides a few burns and singed hair, Officer Flagg looked respectably alive.

And had even remembered his manners to thank Garrison and his men profusely.

"I'm not a murderer," Garrison had said to that. "Despite any other actions."

Officer Flagg had accepted that.

Garrison figured they were equal, though one might question the equability between an emotional strangling and rescue from a bomb. But he wasn't going to quibble it. He would prefer to have the cop returned to the shore with the promise of silence and be done with the whole mess.

He did have to laugh. Maybe he shouldn't have released Kim Possible.

* * *

Shego decided she did not much care for the ocean. Or perhaps she had merely seen too much of it lately. And she didn't even get to intentionally damage the submarine.

"He's beautiful," Jackson said, smoothing down Brexton's hair.

"He is." Shego kissed Brexton's cheek.

The morning sun was creeping over the horizon, lighting up the grounds of Shego's apartment. Now what? Her son was back and she didn't even have to get Kimmie killed.

Maybe she missed the good old days of villainy.

And here was Jackson standing right next to her. Brilliant professor, nice guy. Son of a criminal. Damn cute and there had to be some evil in those genes. He had been pretty ruthless.

"Sorry about your bomb," she said.

He shrugged. "Well, we did get to see it in action. That has to count for something."

"Are you going to build another one?"

"Of course."

She smiled. "Wanna come up?"

* * *

"So this is it, then." The words sounded so weird coming out of his mouth. When had Ron ever planned on saying anything like them? They tasted horrible as well. And what was he meaning, exactly, when he said them? Hadn't he already wanted it to be over and done with? Hadn't he regretted it? So what was he saying right now?

It was a comfortable place to be having this conversation, sitting on the Possibles' living room couch. The rest of the family was gone. He was grateful for that. All he needed was Kim's parents chiming in with random phrases. Though they understood, didn't they? Hadn't they supported him and Monique this entire time? Wouldn't they understand?

Or did they expect him to dump Monique and take back up with Kim?

But these thoughts were all superficial. He already had the answers.

Kim nodded. She wasn't crying this time. Maybe she was all cried out. "This is it. I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry. There is nothing for you to be sorry about?"

"Letting a clone die for me?"

He couldn't help but laugh. "That wasn't your fault. Clone killer."

She laughed as well. Nothing forced. Like she actually thought he was funny. Well, she had put up with enough dumb jokes from him over the years. "Seriously, I like to think things would have ended up differently. You know, if things had gone differently."

"Maybe they would have." He took her hand. "I like to think that, too. I bet there is another parallel universe where we do wind up together."

"I just… I just can't do this to you and Monique. Mess everything up." She sighed and squeezed his hand. "I guess I had really awkward timing of showing up again, didn't I?"

"You have no idea."

For a long time she said nothing. Ron used to panic when girls didn't talk., but now… it was okay. It was not to break the silence that he said "You're still my best friend. You know that, right?"

She smiled. "I know. You are my best friend, too."

"That's not the "we're just going to be friends" line, is it?"

Another laugh and a shake of her head. She was looking so much healthier than she had been. Very pretty. "I don't think so. It's not to me, anyway. And that line was always a cliché."

He nodded. The line, at least, felt true. He could accept that.

"One more thing. For old times' sake." He knew Monique wouldn't mind. At least, he didn't think she would. He leaned forward and kissed Kim. She responded.

It was nothing like their other kisses of the past few days. Nothing passionate. Loving, definitely. He wouldn't expect anything else. Nice. Kissing Kim had always been nice. In fact, it was a wonderful kiss. Warm, soft, long, tender.

But there were no sparks.

Maybe that was a good thing.

* * *

"It's amazing," Monique said over the phone. "I'm a celebrity! I mean, it should be you, girl. You and you alone. Well, maybe Ron."

"Those kids are all under twelve, Monique," Kim replied.

"So they're naïve. Mystery explained."

"You did have a bullet in your leg. That's cool to kids."

"Not to Barkin. He just goes on and on with war wound stories. Mine is the equivalent of a paper cut."

Kim laughed. "He's still the same, isn't he?"

"He is. You need to come in and see him."

"I'll have to."

"By the way," Monique lowered her voice. "How are you doing?"

Kim paused. "It's been a couple of days. Still in shock, I guess. I've known Brick for years, so that's weird. It's like with Tara, but no surfacing of a Brick clone."

"I wonder what happened to that clone. But back to the point. I noticed something with you two."

"Maybe. I don't know what's what anymore."

"Don't worry. You're not expected to."

"I guess I'm just sad."

The door opened. "Babe?"

"Is that Ron?" Kim asked.

Monique grinned. Yes, it was Ron. Very much indeed. And she was thrilled. "Yeah. Want to talk to him?"

"Just tell him hi for me and that I'll talk to him later."

"Is it weird between you two?"

"Monique, I'm not going to let it get that way."

"I'm so glad."

Ron appeared, clutching a huge bouquet of carnations. "Who's that?"

"Kim. Who else? Are those for me?"

"I don't see any other girl laying up with a leg in a cast." He set down the flowers and kissed her.

"Sorry, Kim." She hung up the phone and kissed him back.

* * *

Kim hung up her end of the phone and smiled. It was odd that she was smiling when Ron was obviously kissing Monique, but she was. And she meant what she said. Things were not going to get weird. She wasn't just saying that.

It didn't feel that way. She had known Ron for too long for anything to get weird.

She fell back against the couch. Her mom was in the kitchen, cooking while watching a video of the last surgery she had performed. Her dad was in his office, tinkering away with who knew what. She closed her eyes and breathed in the smell of the house. This was home. She wasn't in a prison under the ocean. That place was gone. It felt gone, too. That was the nicest part of it. All gone and she knew it.

Something healed inside of her with that thought.

So Brick had gone with it. The bad part. Something had broken open inside of her.

She dwelt on the thought a minute. Another pain among many, but right now the biggest, the freshest. Monstrously huge. She had already cried over it plenty. Was it time to cry again?

There were so many other things to think about. Like, what now?

That did sound nice. Kim Possible. Back in action.

Maybe the sooner the better.

A knock on the door jarred her from her thoughts. She stood up and opened the door.

She nearly fainted, but the sensation passed and her arms were around Brick as she swore to herself she would kill him if he were a clone.

He hugged her back, nervously.

"I'm sorry," he rambled on. "I was at the hospital. Nothing big. But Garrison Wiles is so private, so weird about things… Then it turns out I was declared dead…"

The crying was going to start back up. She just hugged him all the tighter.

**The End**

* * *

_Well, it took me forever and a day, but I did it! _

_Thank-you all who have read, supported, and given advice during this. You've been wonderful!_

_I apologize to anyone bothered by the ships. I really did imagine this was going to be a K/R fic. But… things happen, stories write themselves._

_I know I did not clear up the Tara clone thing. I just couldn't bare to destroy the last evil trace of Tara in this fictional world._


End file.
